Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Draft #49
Growing up as young Polish boy, I found that extra curricular activities were hard to come by. My name is Mushkov and I dropped out of school after de fifth grade and devoted my services full time to father's farm. Between shoveling pig slop and shoveling cow manure, I didn't have much free time to pursue normal leisure activities that most twelve year old boys enjoy. My family was very, very poor. Any animals we had on de farm were strictly for slaughtering purposes, papa said I could not have puppy. So instead, I had pet tree stump that I talk to inbetween chores, I name him Nakooshna, which is Polish for, ever present friend. My only brother, Kreshnic was crushed to death by wild oxen when he was five, so Nakooshna was all I had. I loved him very much. I telled him my secrets and wishes, none of which came true because we were poor, very, very, poor. We did not have the Playstation I or II. Nobody wanted to come play with Mushkov, my old school mates would say to me, "Mooshkie, Sonic the Hedgehog is very gay and so are you, why don't you go play with the mules." This would make Mushkov very sad, and I would cry very much.
I not know why kids didn't like Mushkov. I very much like to play. Sega's graphics were not as good as most gaming consoles at that time, but my mother always made fresh apple cidar, it was very delicious. Perhaps it was because my house smelt like rottin red beets. Mother pickled them in jars constantly and the house smelled like the business end of a hippopotamus's hind quarters, a smell Mushkov won't soon forget. My mother was a beastly figure and the school mates would always tell me to give her hay ride, or ride in hay. I'm not sure what they mean by hay ride, but they make "mooo" sound after suggestion, I not quite make connection.
In Poland, where I from, the sky is always gray and most days Mushkov rather lay with pigs in pen than do chores. Papa always treat me like servant, he never care about what Mushkov think. Papa never took Mushkov into town for iced cream or to see little league play. I could have been great baseball champion, like Phil Niekro. Papa drudged through his chores like man who was forced into labor by government. He despised the farm, he despised Poland, and as far as Mushkov could tell, he despised me.
Only time papa was happy was when he was racing his prized pigeon, Prenya. Every night after chores papa would take Prenya out past the Slojawski farm and then time how long it would take him to return to our home. Papa knew Prenya was a very special pigeon and that someday he would make our family very, very proud. Papa always spoke of how Prenya's sense of direction was unlike any other pigeon papa had ever trained before, to which my reply would be, "Yes Papa, he's like Milo and Otis wrapped into one beautiful rat feathered package." And when it came to mocking papa's precious Prenya, no mouth went unsavaged. He would usually beat me until I lost control of my bowels, and once that happened he would throw me in with de pigs and scream, "Dat's where you belong, wit de pigs." Oh how I hated that pigeon. Many nights I laid awake in my bed looking out to the stars, hoping that a swarm of locusts would fly through and eat that damn pigeon, inch by disease infested inch. I could picture my Papa writhing in pain at the sight of his baby being torn up into so many pieces that not even Rain Man could count the remains. This dream Mushkov had, made Mushkov very, very happy.
It was time for the annual Pigeon Racing Exhibition and usually papa never invites me, he says I bring much bad luck. But this year he asked, he finally asked. "Mushkov, I believe Prenya is starting to become familiar with you as apart of our family and surroundings, I think you should join me when I go to the Pigeon Racing Exhibition this weekend, it might help Prenya. You will do this, no?" "Yes Papa, I will." As much as I wished that pigeon would fail and fail miserably, so miserably that papa had no choice but to choke it lifeless with his bare hands, I also thought that Prenya winning 1st prize may actually put Papa in a good mood for once. Clinging to this hope, I went with Papa to the Exhibition. We arrived and I noticed many pigeons, but none with the grandeur that a Prenya possesses. I almost felt proud for a moment, but then quickly realized that having a great pigeon was the equivalent to having the best piece of trash in the can.
Before the competition, all the pigeon owners gathered in a certain room in the International Fair building to show off their birds. While papa was gabbing with some of the other competitors, I sat off to the side and kept to myself. I was staring off into space like I usually do when I noticed that there were a fair amount of cracks in the ceiling. I didn't think much of it at the time, but then fifteen minutes later I began noticing some small fragments falling from above. I thought it was rain at first, but quickly realized that what I thought was rain, was actually part of the ceiling. A bad feeling came over me and judging by the look on everybody's face, no one was even aware of what might be happening. I told papa that I thought the roof may be giving in, but he said, "Mushkov, if the roof were caving in, I think I might notice something like that. You are such a useless sack of nothing. Go sit down and shut it, people might start noticing that I know you."
So I exited the building in fear that it may collapse. I looked up and noticed that the top of the roof had a large mass of snow laying above it, and all of a sudden, in that instance, it happened. The roof began crashing to the floor of the exhibition, and it happened so quickly that all I remember next were the horrifying screams of the hundreds trapped below. I scurried in to see if I could find my pah-pah. I meandered through the cloud of dust and busted bird cages to find my papa trapped under a huge steel girder. "Papa, are you alright?" "Mushkov, you fuck chop, I'm trapped under a steel girder and I'm pretty sure death is momentarily approaching, I am NOT alright! My legs are very badly broken and my dying wish is for you to go find my Prenya and make sure he wins next years competition. Do it my son, do it, you oversized orangutang." Right then and there, my papa died and I ran away from that place as fast as I could knowing my father died doing the two things he loved the most, insulting me..........and racing pigeons.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Draft #48
Weekend Review:
Friday: I ate a cheeseburger.
Saturday: I could look back on Saturday from two different perspectives. I could look at things in a negative, pessimistic light OR I could see things from a joyous, uplifting angle. And since I can't make up my mind when it comes to just about everything, I'll do both.
Glass half full: Saturday, we were scheduled to head to Madison for a day of binge drinking, fine dining (pigging out on greasy bar food), and some Badger hockey. And gosh darn it, mission accomplished. We arrived in Madison around 10:00 am, checked into the Concourse right away and Haus had the homemade whiskey old fashions fired up before you could say, swizzle sticks. I felt very distinguished drinking whiskey (Kessler in case you're curious) from a coffee cup, a very regal feeling. After a couple of drinks, we exited the room and headed to the elevator to find a bar (because that's where most bars are). Upon leaving the room we noticed that it was very quiet in the hallway and I noticed we had left the door open and that anything we said within the last hour probably could have heard by anyone who happened to be outside of our room. And then I noticed that about three different cleaning people were outside of our room and they were all giggling as we passed them on our way to the elevator. I'm still not sure if it was because of something we said, or if it was because one of us had attempted to make music without the use of voice, instruments, hands, armpits, or a stereo. I'm not going to name names, but he attempted this about six times with great success, much to the delight of us and apparently the cleaning staff.
Around eleven something o' clock we arrived at State Street Brats to watch the Marquette/Pittsburgh basketball game. Surprisingly enough, we were not the only ones in there. A young Marquette student and his girlfriend were there, for the same reason I suppose, to drink and watch the game, which they did. Except this fellow, was living and dying on every play, good or bad. He would shout out in a loud voice whether it was a made free throw or a TV timeout was called, just a very, very intense young man. His lady friend could stomach his behavior to a certain degree, so long as not too many people were in the bar. But once the place started to fill up, you could see her slowly slumping down in her seat as if to say to us through body language that, "Yes, I may be with this person and yes I may have sex with this person from time to time, but his actions do not represent the both of us, I have almost nothing to do with this person, Oh my God, who is this guy in my booth?" It was a nice visit, I ate a red brat and waffle fries and drank three gin and tonics.
We headed back to the hotel for more Kesslers in a coffee cup, and now that I think about it, this is when we made the cleaning staff giggle, not that the timeframe really matters. We watched the first half of the Wisconsin/Michigan game before heading out to the Nitty Gritty at halftime for lunch (the brat from before was just a snack, hell I even split it was Haus, sorry for misleading you). Last year, was the first time I had ever been there, and I recognized some of the staff on my second visit, one year later, particularly the girl who waited on us last year, the one we tipped $25 on a $75 tab. Naturally she didn't remember us, but a couple of us remembered her, despite one member of our party swearing that this wasn't the same girl. But it was. We had a different server this time, an interesting tyke named Courtney. She brought us our Monte Cristo's piping hot with a smile, so she's OK in my book. She even rubbed my shoulder/back for a solid 3-5 second count after I complimented her on her headband, that's just damn good customer service. The wedding will be in June. After two pints of Harp, two pints of Miller Lite, and two Vodka Redbulls, it was off to the hockey game, but not after asking the hostess if I could call out the next party's name over the microphone. I absolutely love talking into a microphone, I wish she would have let me. Instead she told me, "No, do you know how long it took me to able to do this?" I said, "A couple years." She shrugged her shoulders as if to say I was right. So I put my hands in my pocket and paused for a bit, still standing next to her. After 30 seconds or so, I chimed in, "Not even a Johnson or a Smith, you don't have an easy one for me to do?" She just giggled and told me "No" again. So I stood there for another 30 seconds, hands in pocket, and chimed in again with, "It's not like I'm asking you to let me do a Grabowski or Shimboweitz." Another giggle, and I exited stage right, at least I gave it a shot.
So we made it to the hockey game, great seats, courtesy of Stackhouse. The atmosphere was electric for most of the game. We saw a kid almost fall backwards as he was trying to go up the stairs because he was completely wasted from head to toe. Some pointed, many laughed. After the game we headed over to State Bar, a joint near the capitol. We drank, some more than others. Four MGD's for me.
Glass half empty time: So it was midnight and half the group was ready to head back to the hotel. I had a big decision to make; I could go with them and eat some pizza or try to find the girl of my dreams who I was previously playing phone tag with for the last two hours. So I decided to find the girl. When we last talked around 10:30 pm, she said she was at a friend's house near the Kohl Center and that she would be going out in an hour or so. We decided that whoever left their respective gathering first, should give the other a call. So at midnight, having noticed that she didn't call yet, I gave her a call but only got the voice mail. Haus and I decided to walk down State street a ways until we were halfway between our hotel and the Kohl Center. Still she hadn't called. Haus was kind/drunk enough to wait with me for an extra half hour in the pooring rain while we waited for the callback, but alas, the clock showed 1:00 am and still no response.
So in closing, I never got to see the girl, didn't get to eat pizza, it rained the entire time we were there, every team we rooted for that day lost, my brother-in-law came down with the flu and felt like crap the whole day, but other than that it was a really good weekend. Any day that involves me not working and me drinking for the majority of that day, is a good day.
Sunday: Checked out, ate breakfast at Perkins, went home, took nap, ate an orange.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Draft #47
A little work never killed anybody?Well according to Hucklebuck medical studies at Hucklebuck University, work is the number one related activity that leads to thousands of deaths every year. Many employees, overworked and crushed under the thumb of the Man, have fallen to the numerous demands that come along with being a corporate rented mule. Now while the ill effects of the Man's cruel treatment over his subjects can't be seen through scars and bruises, it can however be seen in many different ways. Many workers will develop a disease known as lossofselfrespectasis, a deadly disease that is usually contracted when an employee's initial request for higher wages or reasonable hours are rejected, and in return, are given a heavier work load and less vacation. The employee becomes timid and returns to his or her workstation with their tail between their legs and will remain there for years at a time, as to not anger the Man.
During these years of hybernation, trapped inside a fort of high cubicle walls, the employee will try to conjure up a variety of different tactics and ways in which they could somehow seek revenge on the Man for ruining their lives. Many employees try to envision themselves lacing the Man's coffee with a powerful cleaning detergent or setting his lake home on fire in hopes that this will rid them of their terrible disease, but unfortunately, if the employee has reached this point, the disease has already taken full effect. Once the employee's hatred for the Man has boiled over into feelings of malicious discontent or even murder, the employee has already probably experienced a deterioration in what is referred to as the spine, the area of the body that would propel these malicious thoughts into actual action.
From this point, Lossofselfrespectasis will remain in the employee's system for years until they are given an anniversary watch, forcefully pushed out the backdoor, and eventually die. This process can last anywhere from 10-50 years, and the employee may never even know they have it.
So what do you do if you think you have Lossofselfrespectasis? Many who have already reached the stage of this disease where their spines have been removed, typically unite themselves into marriage with members of the opposite sex who are also stricken with the same illness. Our studies have found that the female's spine doesn't deteriorate as fast as the male's does, and in many cases, are able to dominate the relationship because of it. This may lead the male to do more activities he really doesn't want to do in fear of a painful retaliation from their female counterparts. These activities may include shopping, attending baby showers, having babies, doing unnecessary housework, reduction in sexual activity, reduction in rec-league participation, and the elimination of certain friends. If this sounds like you, there is regrettably no cure for you, unless you count the sweet release of death.
How do you prevent Lossofselfrespectasis? It's very important that you let the Man know that you are not going to put up with any of his shit. This will let the Man know that you mean business. How does one go about doing this? An employee can avoid Lossofselfrespectasis in many ways and here are a few examples to illustrate how. Say your boss has just sent a company wide e-mail asking for an RSVP to the unpaid voluntary training seminar at corporate headquarters, what-a-ya do? The answer should be simple, you simply reply in all caps that you ain't no bitch, and that you ain't doing shit till you get a raise. This will let the Man know that you mean business. Still confused? Well say the Man has just barged into your cubicle space and insists that you were the one who screwed up on the Johnson file, what should you say to that? If you've got LOSRasis, you'll probably take the heat or try to snitch on someone who you think might have done it, whatever route necessary to avoid confrontation. So it's imperative that you stand straight up, look the Man in the eye and point your finger directly in his face, knowing you were the one who fucked up and say, "Back it on up bitch, I didn't fuck up no files, and where the hell is my raise? I got kids to feed." (knowing full well you don't have kids)This will ensure that the Man will never put his nose near your cubicle or your business, again.
So we urge you to take a stand while you can before it's too late. You don't want to be the guy that's spends all day plotting revenge tactics you'll never follow through on. The guy that busts his hump with no raise in sight. The guy that gets forced into marriage and takes shit from his kids. The guy that brings a flask of rum to work to help ease the pain. The guy that works long hours because he's afraid the wife might have realized you were the one who stained the carpet. Don't be that guy, do what you can or the next thing you know, you're gunna find yourself mapping out the best route to the Fashion Barn on a Sunday...........Super Bowl Sunday, pause for gasp. If you're doing that, you're as good as dead.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Draft #46
Could Hucklebuck be the next Miss America 2006?
The answer to that question is an obvious NO, the competition has already passed stupid, maybe next year though? My roommate and I were watching the pageant last night and we tuned in to the part where the Wisconsin representative was already eliminated, which is usually somewhere in the beginning of the competition. We never really caught a glimpse of the Wisconsin rep, but that didn't stop us from watching the rest of the show, mercilessly picking apart beautiful women that neither of us would have any business talking to, or even looking at, if the situation presented itself. Which brings me to today, I was searching the CMT (Country Music Television) website to catch a peek at Miss Wisconsin (not bad actually, despite being 21 and looking about 30) when I came up with an idea for today's entry. Each pageanteer was asked the same 20 some questions, and the responses were posted on the CMT website. In my attempt to be the next Miss America, I will answer these same questions and hopefully woo the judges into seeing my vast inner beauty.
1. Who was the most influential person in your life?
-I believe that's a tie between Don Majkowski and my uncle Steve. The Magic man tought me never to get injured while it was uncle Steve that tought me the steep consequences involved with tax fraud.
2. What is one thing about you that people you meet may not immediately realize?
-That I can fit thirteen grapes in my mouth. Then they usually ask why I don't just drink grape juice, to which I reply, where's the danger in that?
3. What is your hometown like?
-The WB is the diamond gem amidst a steaming pile of jealous manure. Many of the surrounding cities (actually the word "city" would be giving them too much credit, most are just considered "villages") wish they could be as great as West Bend, but until they have two McDonald's, this lofty aspiration will never actually materialize. Did you hear that Kewaskum? You're scum! Thank goodness I wasn't born in Jackson, I'd probably have six toes and crap myself at some point in this interview.
4. What makes your state so special?
-It's the only place I know of, that considers six to seven beers to be a casual drinking affair. And Brett Favre, the only non-family member a Wisconsinite might actually take a bullet for.
5. What was one defining moment in your life?
-It was the first time I saw the Packers play at Lambeau. The Packers were down by six with thirteen seconds left on the clock and we had the ball at our own 40 yard line. Favre was rolling to his left with two defenders breathing down his neck, and as if he had eyes behind his head, he slammed the brakes on, ducked, and the defenders were left airborn, sailing out of bounds. Favre changed direction trying to buy time for his crappy receiving core to get open, and with one second remaining, John Randle came out of nowhere and had both arms fastened securely around Brett's ankles, so Brett, falling backwards, heaves the ball from his own 33 and it sailed all the way to the endzone into the arms of a wide open Robert Brooks. And from that moment on, I realized there wasn't anything that Brett Favre couldn't do.
6. If you were named Miss America, what do you want to accomplish during the next twelve months?
-Not a damn thing! Maybe eat nachos for two weeks straight, but that would be about it.
7. What is the best piece of advice you ever received?
- "If it's yellow, let it mellow, if it's brown, flush it down." My third grade camp counselor. And....."Women are like erections son, if you've got a good one, don't let it, or her, go." My grandpa.
8. What have you learned about yourself after winning the state pageant?
-I learned I'm prettier than your average field donkey.
9. What advice would you give today's teens?
-You know that girl in your high school, the one you think is way too hot for you right now. Just give it time, you'll find yourself at a party with her sometime during college, or maybe even after college and you'll both be hammered, she'll be impressed you remembered her name and the rest will be magic.
10. What is one important thing you have learned from being in pageants?
-I learned how to walk and smile at the same time and how to eat an entire plate of food without actually eating anything.
11. Do you have any fun/funny behind-the-scenes stories?
-It's funny you should ask that because actually there isn't, most of these girls are pretty dull. Unless you consider me striking out with all the original thirteen colonies a funny story. Damn prudes.
12. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
-Why mess with a good thing? (That's what I say on the outside, but on the inside I'm secretly hoping I wake up one day with a pair of pythons that would make the Hulkster stroke his fu-man-chew in jealously)
13. During your pageant competitions, what has been the most difficult question you've been asked to answer? -Whenever they ask me about worldly issues, I never know what to say. It's like come on, who cares, really? I usually just try to divert their attention by saying how much I love the USA, then braking out into a U-S-A chant. That almost always gets the crowd going.
14. What do you feel is the most important issue facing the nation at this time in history?
-(Ahhh shit) Ah.........I just wanted to say........that I ah.....I love the USA! U...S....A!....U.....
15. What do you think is the greatest misconception about pageant contestants?
-I think most people from the outside think these are all well rounded women with an abundance of confidence, but they're not. They are mostly all fake and just complain about their appearance. If tap dancing like a ferry makes you a well rounded person, then count me out. U--S--A! U--S--A!
16. Do you consider yourself a role model? And if so, are you comfortable in that position?
-I rolled around with a model once (Prange Way catalog model), but she wouldn't let me try that one position, you know, the one where she ain't looking at ya, that's a good one right there, but she ain't a flipper (Who let Larry the Cable Guy in here?).
17. What is the last book you rea.........we'll just skip this one.
18. What qualities do you look for in a leader? Do you have these qualities?
-You gotta have a strong arm and be able to play in cold weather. Hell I don't, but you know who does.
19. What does it mean to you to be an American?
-It means I'm better than you, assuming you ain't American. And if you are, then (Hucklebuck places elbow on table as if to challenge the interviewer to an arm wrestling match to determine who is the better person)
20. What are you studying, or what did you study in school?
-I flunked out of internet college and am currently living the glamourous and exciting life of a switchboard monkey.
I can almost smell that crown.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Draft #45
Weekend Review
Friday:
After the sphincter clenching ride from work to home because of the blizzard that turned highway traffic into a carnival bumper car secession, it was time to fuel up with an entire Jack's frozen pizza and a frozen burrito to ensure a solid base was in place for the weekend ahead. And for those of you possibly thinking to yourself, "Does he really do all of his eating for the entire weekend on Friday night?" The answer to that would be, "You are an idiot." Anyway, as I was shoveling food into my face, I noticed something while watching the Bucks game. If you ever want to commit a crime, do it at Philips Arena in Atlanta during a Hawks game, no one ever goes there, you wouldn't get caught. So with a full belly and a Bucks victory seemingly within grasp, it was off to Nate's apartment to begin a night of drunken debauchery, without the promiscuity. We moseyed on over to an authentic German bar that served authentic looking/tasting beer in large glasses with handles on them. I couldn't tell you the name of the place or the name of the beer, but it all went down smoothly enough.
I was minding my own business in the corner of the bar when all of a sudden a dastardly looking fellow gave me the old crooked eyes from accross the room. I didn't think much of it, till minutes later when the same feller tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Listen here you son of a bitch, I. Don't. Like. You." [Me], "Not sure we've met, my name is Andy" [Guy] "I don't care if yer name was Lickady Splickady, I'm a gunna put a hurtin on yo ass." [Me] "That's odd, I don't believe I've shagged your mother, what did you say your name was again?" [Guy], "The name's Jethro, and I ain't got no mama." [Me] "Well do me a favor then Jethro, and tell the pack of wolves who raised you, that they've done quite a job." [Guy] "Oh that's it, now yer really gunna get it." [Me] "Oh, I'm gunna get it, hey, well make sure not to make too big a scene while you're getting it to me" [Guy, turning red with anger] "Oh I won't....I mean.... I will.....I mean.....Ahhhhh Frupin Dossen Flopin!" [Me] "I'm sorry, come again?" [Guy] "That's German Jibberish for (you will feel much pain)" [Me] "Oh right, the beating. How's that coming along?" [Guy] "You'll find out soon enough, you useless sack of douche!" [Me] "I see. Tell'ya what Mr. Jethro, I'll be right here drinking beer, and when this beat down you keep talking about, finally gets here, you just let me know. Alright?" [Guy] "I'm gunna straight up murder your ass."
[Me] "Okay Jethro, you don't want to murder me. You're not that kind of a person. You're more of the go home by yourself and pass out in the bathtub type. And judging by the amount of balance you're exhibiting right now, I'd say you might not even make it home tonight." [Guy, as though he may begin to cry] "You don't know me!" [Me, leaning in towards friends] "This guy's fucking crazy, let's get outta here."
So Andy, Nate, and others went to a neighboring wateringhole where many more drinks were had and some drunk phonecalls were made (sorry John). I retired to bed that evening to find that the room I was in, was actually spinning. Luckily for me, there was a waste paper basket next to the bed, so I was able to make a vomit deposit before passing out. All and all it was a great weekend, I met some really, really nice people and drank a fair share of alcohol in the process. I also learned that I'm completely useless when it comes to games such as Operation and Jenga due to the not so steady hands I possess. I'm totally going to be that old guy that shakes uncontrollably as he raises his spoon to his mouth while eating, so bad in fact, that all the contents of the spoon will fall out and back onto the plate before the spoon ever hits my mouth. I will make for a very frustrated and hungry elderly man.
Special thanks: To the keepers of the Mort, for allowing us to trash your bar and scream obscenities through the wee early moring hours. Definitely good times. And to Nate, for his hair. And to Nate's lady, for providing the spinning bed.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Funny Joke
I was forwarded this joke through e-mail today, thought y'all might like it:
The National Transportation Safety Board recently divulged they had "covertly" funded a project with the U.S. automakers for the past 5 years, whereby the automakers were installing black-box voice recorders in 4-wheel drive pickup trucks and SUV's in an effort to determine, in fatal accidents, the circumstances in the last 15 seconds before the crash. They were surprised to find in 48 of the 50 states the recorded last words of drivers in 61.2 percent of fatal crashes were, "Oh Shit!" Only Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan were different, where 89.3 percent of the final words were: "Hold my beer, I'm gonna try somethin'."
Remember kids, never operate an automobile while drinking an alcoholic beverage while it's snowing outside.
Draft #44
I was in the shower this morning and for some reason, don't ask me why, I started noticing some similarities between certain Adam Sandler movies and some of the movies that star Ben Stiller, the Wilson brothers, Will Ferrell, and Vince Vaughn. I can't even think of what I was thinking about before this whole comparison crept into my head, but oh well.
Wedding Crashers vs. Wedding Singer
Do the the main characters in each movie spend any of their time at weddings?
-Yes they do. Adam Sandler (Robbie Hart) sings at weddings while Owen Wilson (John Beckwith) picks up chicks at weddings.
Do the main characters fall in love with girls that already have boyfriends?
-Yes they do. Robbie falls in love with a waitress who works at the wedding hall while John falls in love with a bridesmaid.
Are these boyfriends both wealthy and very arrogant?
-You bet they are. Glenn Gulia is a bond trader who drives a sexy DeLorean, or a DeLorean looking sports car while Sack is an athletic looking meathead who appears to be quite wealthy himself.
Do these boyfriends treat their girlfriends like crap at some point in the movie?
-Yes they do. Glenn makes Julia sit in the aisle seat on the plane so his elbows don't get smashed by the drink cart while Sack yells at Claire when he's puking in the toilet and all she wanted was to see if he needed any help. Both instances made the girls think to themselves, maybe this isn't the right guy for me.
Do these boyfriends admittingly cheat on their girlfriends?
-Yes they do. Glenn works late in the city and loves his grade A choice meat while Sack.........well I've only seen Wedding Crashers once, but I'm pretty sure he cheats on Claire, I just can't remember how or with who.
Do Robbie and John get punched in the nose at some point in their respective movies by the aformentioned boyfriends, Glenn and Sack?
-Yes they do. Glenn punches Robbie in the nose while bar hopping during his bachelor party and Sack punches John after catching him snooping around at his engagement party.
Do Robbie and John hit a point in their movies where they become disheleved and depressed?
-Yes they do. Robbie hides out in his basement after Linda leaves him at the alter and he feels down on his luck again after he sees Julia up in her room in her wedding dress. John becomes depressed after he loses Claire and he starts crashing again, but the magic isn't quite there without his running mate Jeremy Grey (Vince Vaughn). Even John's apartment became disheveled.
Do Robbie and John have a sitdown or meeting with anyone that helps get them out of their ruts?
-Yes they do. Robbie has a talk with his brother at the bar. Robbie declared he will be more like his brother and just have a different chick every night, but his brother assures him that this lifestyle doesn't make him happy and that all he really wants is for someone to hold him. John meets up with Chazz (Will Ferrell) and discovers that crashing funerals and the like has lost it's luster and perhaps it's time to settle down.
Do Julia and Claire have sisters in their respective movies that the sidekicks of Robbie and John eventually get together with?
-I think so. John's brother-like friend, Jeremy, ends up marrying Claire's sister Gloria while Robbie's brother gets a warm reaction from Julia's sister when he agrees to give Robbie his credit card so Robbie can catch a flight to try and stop Julia's Vegas marriage to Glenn. Julia's sister is played by Christine Taylor who just so happens to be married to Ben Stiller in real life, and Ben is a part of the Stiller, Vaughn, Ferrell, and Wilson brother possy I talked about in the beginning of this entry. Yet another crazy connection to the two films.
Does each film have a wrinkly old character that says things that most old people wouldn't say?
-Yes they do. It's the same woman actually. The actress's name is Ellen Albertini Dow. In The Wedding Singer she played Rosie, the sweet old lady that Adam gave piano lessons to. She talked to Adam about intercourse before marriage, a topic I couldn't ever image discussing with my grandma, hell even my parents. And in Wedding Crashers, she played the role of not so sweet Grandmother Cleary, Claire's grandma. She told everyone at the dinner table that her grandson was a "homo" and she declared that Eleanore Roosevelt was a big dyke, a real rug muncher. A Big lesbian mule.
Was there a Jewish gathering in each film?
Yes.
Was there a homosexual male in each movie?
I'm pretty sure. Claire's brother was gay. And a member of Robbie's band, backup vocalist, George was probably a gay, eventhough he never broke into Robbie's room and tried to molest him. He could have just been a confused man, but I'm leaning towards gay.
And in the end, did both Robbie Hart and John Beckwith get the girl?
Yes they did. Robbie tracked Julia down on a plane and won her heart with a song he wrote and a little help from Billy Idol. While John showed up to the wedding of his friend Jeremy and won the heart of Claire with a little help from whoever it was that knocked out Sack, again I've only seen the movie once but I'm pretty sure that's how things went down.
In conclusion, I'm sure there are even more similarities that I may have missed but the bottomline is that these are two very funny movies and I recommend both to anyone who likes to laugh. A stronger recommendation to Wedding Crashers for those you like the booby.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Draft #43
The Diary of a Hungry Man
Something is going on, and the cafeteria is way too crowded. I don't know the exact reason for the influx of people, but they are ruining lunch for me. I have no where to eat, no safe haven. My manager, for some unknown reason, decided to put me in the 11:45 lunchtime slot, you guessed it, the high volume lunchtime. The cafeteria is usually crowded enough at this time, but I think there is some sort of conference/class/convention going on at our office and my little corner of the cafe has been littered with unfamiliar faces the last two days. With the hours I work, I should be eating at 12:15 or 12:45, but I think the weasel next to me stole my lunch hours, that son of a bitch. Now in the grand scheme of things, this is not a big issue. This probably wouldn't ruffle the feathers of most people, but to me, this was a cold, hard, slap to the face. We recently lost two people in our department and for about two weeks I was living on easy street. I had a 12:30 lunchtime and the days were just breezing by. I can't explain it, but having that lunch hang over your head helps, it gives you something to look forward to. And when you're done with lunch, it seems like there is only a couple hours left to the work day. Plus, the major bonus to having a later lunchtime is the spacious cafeteria, I could sit smack dab in the middle of the cafe (I'm usually tucked in a corner) and not be within three tables of the nearest person. Ohhhhhhh, things were sooo good.
But an 11:45 lunch? It's all bad from head to toe. Lunch sneaks up on you when you have to eat that early and then this massive five hour block of time is just sitting there, staring you in the face when you come back from lunch. I already discussed the crowded factor as it pertains to the cafeteria and this also applies to the computer station next to the cafeteria. 11:30-12:30 is the peak usage time for these computers and almost nobody abides by the 15 minute rule for when others are waiting to use the computer. I'm getting frustrated just talking about this. So today, this is what I did, I said fuck it, I'm not eating lunch. I'm protesting this lunch slot until the matter is rectified. There is absolutely no reason why I should be the third person to go to lunch when I'm the fourth person who gets here in the morning. I've seen some outrageous things in my day, but this, this is a travesty.
Before this job, I could have sworn I was a pretty easy going guy, but this job is slowly beating the life out of me. I'm always mad and I constantly have the urge to murder something. A bare handed strangling is just what the doctor ordered, any volunteers? I can see my boycott not lasting the week, I've already leaped off the deep end and I've only skipped one meal, pathetic. So to my supervisor, my weasely co-worker, and the legions of those who doubt I can last the week without lunch, I bid you this. Never underestimate the spirit of a tattered soul. Only two and a half hours until I'm knee deep in leftover Hamburger Helper, jambala flavored for my pleasure.
And since I've still got time to kill, here's a list of movies that I know I haven't seen that most of America has probably seen. * -means I haven't seen any of the movies in that series
-Godfather*
-Titanic
-Starwars*
-Indiana Jones*
-Independence Day
-Harry Potter*
-Lord of the Rings*
-Ghost
-Million Dollar Baby
-Chronicles of Nardia
-Introduction to the Female Anatomy
-How the Female Body Works
-How to Please a Female
-The Key to a Ladies Heart
I guess these are movies that most people my age have already seen by now. Oh well.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Draft #42
I really do not like it when people take crosswalks literally. You know, the kind of people that walk through a cross walk without their head on a swivel like nothing wrong could possibly happen. These people most likely walk at a dreadly slow pace with their head in the clouds and could care less that you are in a hurry. Well here's a news flash for you kind of people, cars are bigger and faster than you. So next time you're walking through the cross walk with the comfort of knowing (slash thinking) that you have the right of way, remember this, I will run your ass over. And don't let me catch you whistling while walking through a cross walk because not only will I run your ass over, but I'll slap my Canyonero in reverse and give you a second go through, Canyonero style. Crosswalks aren't a right, they are a privilege and they should be treated as such. When the "Do not walk" hand is flashing, that means you put that ass of yours in second gear, no lollygagging damn it! People have been abusing the crosswalks for far too long now and I don't like it.
And you bicycle riders, you know who you are. You pedal pushing road hoarders, you think you have equal rights to the same road as my Canyonero? If you want to ride a bike, go to France. Otherwise, if you choose to continue slowing up highway speeds, I will be forced to take drastic measures. For years I've been ever so courteously veering my Canyonero into the middle of the road putting myself and others into harms way, and for what? So I don't startle the poor little bike rider? Well no more, that shit ends today. From now on I'll give any and all bike riders the courtesy two honks of the horn and from there, you have two choices. You can either plummet yourself off the road and into the ditch, or let Canyonero escort your ass into the ditch with one swift, suggestive smack to the back of your rear tire. What's it gunna be? And you better not let me catch you wearing tights that have no business being forced onto your chubby body. I will NOT be throwing up in my Canyonero, ruining my plush, leather upholstery because you are in total denial of your flabby physique. I have had it up to here with you people!
I saw this on the Simpsons last night.
Can ya name the truck with four wheel drive,
Smells like a steak and seats thirty five.
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
When it goes real slow with the hammer down,
Its the country fried truck endorsed by a clown.
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
Twelve yards long two lanes wide,
Sixty five tons of American pride.
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
Top of the line in utility sports,
Unexplained fires are a matter for the courts.
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
She blinds everybody with her super high beems,
She's a squirrel squishin' deer smackin' drivin' machine.
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
Yahh...yahh canyonero
Whoa Canyonero.
Hucklebuck Canyonero remix:
It's first in its class, nothing else is fit to compare
Don't look at her too long, it's not polite to stare
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
You wunna hop inside and take her for a spin
Sorry son, gotta have a pair to drive the diesel v-twin
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
Never been laid?, well this is a pretty good start
The ladies organism just shifting out of park
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
Too drunk to drive?, let Canyonero be your guide
The new auto-pilot feature, makes for a pretty sweet ride
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
So...the brakes wear out after a year or two
It's not like yer gunna need em, Canyonero's coming through
Canyonero...
Canyonero...
Yahh... yahh canyonero
Whoa Canyonero
Friday, January 13, 2006
Draft #41
They are lodged in your brain, and you can't get them out. Just do it. Bon a ba ba ba, I'm loving it. Your way, right away. Hot eats, cool treats. Eat fresh. It's the choice of a new generation. Do the Dew. We do chicken right. The best pizza under one roof. Double your pleasure, double your fun. My bologna has a first name. It's not delivery. Pizza pizza. Better breads, better subs. Taste great, less filling. The king of beers. Nothing is impossible. Made from the best stuff on earth. Make a run for the border. The breakfast of champions. The other white meat. It's what's for dinner. It does a body good. Don't leave home without it. Obey your thirst or die....... Ok, maybe you can't die from not drinking Sprite, but having used these slogans without the express written consent of anybody, I now feel as though my life may be in danger. Any moment now a corporate big wig will swoop in and strike me to death with a giant bamboo stick with the exact slogan I just used engraved on it.
So to ensure my safety, I've come up with some new slogans for the franchises and products we all know and love.
McDonalds-"The smallest onions in town" "Seriously, it won't make you that fat" "Guaranteed gut rot" "Billions served, yet no cows harmed"
Burger King- "A 72% chance of finding a stray onion ring in every french fry order" "We're like McDonalds, but with more seseme seed bun options" "We'll make it your way, but not without spitting in it first" "We've got mustard"
Nike- "We dare you to find a shoe that lasts more than 7 months" "Not just sweatshop quality, but Asian sweatshop quality, man those guys can sew"
Subway- I can't really poke fun at Subway. I like Subway. But if I won the lottery and had oodles of disposable income, I would hire someone to make Jared's life a living hell. This person would follow Jared on his walks to Subway carrying chocolate cakes and pizza pies, tempting him every step of the way. Jared will break down eventually, and I am eagerly awaiting the day this asswipe is ruined. If the fatty foods don't get to him, then the alcohol and illegal narcotics will. Enjoy your stay on top Jared, for your day is rapidly approaching.
Pizza Hut- "Simply revolutionary" "Free coupon for coronary bypass surgery with every lunch buffet visit" Imagine this, Pizza Hut devises a pizza that is advertised as being the new "Spinach stuffed crust" pizza. But what the public doesn't know, won't hurt them because mixed in with the spinach will be grade A marijuana (I've never smoked marijuana so I don't know what the top shelf stuff is called, but grade A just sounds good. I'm sure people would eat shit if it came in a box labeled grade A. But honey, it's the best shit in town). There is a really good chance that this product could become massively popular if only spinach wasn't so extremely unpopular.
Chili's- "If you like Applebee's and Taco Bell, you're gunna love us!" "There's nothing Mexican about it"
Miller beer- "Beer, beer, the more you drink, the more you puke, the more puke, the better you feel, so drink Miller Lite, Genuine Draft, High Life, and all other fine Miller products, until you keel" "Bury yourself in a bottle, today"
Oscar Meyer- "What's inside? Your guess is as good as ours" "The most fun you can have between two pieces of bread"
Dairy Queen- "We use the whole fuckin cow" "Dilly bars, they're not just for gays"
Freschetta Frozen Pizza- "50% crust, 50% good"
Abercrombie and Fitch- "Come on in and question your sexuality, today"
Fleet Farm- "Get a free one pound bag of M&M's with every tire or rifle purchase"
Shopko- "You used to like us" "Damn you Target, damn you!"
KFC- "Conveniently located in the worst part of your city" "The whole muton chicken thing is just a rumor" Coming soon, Extra, extra, extra crispy recipe chicken. It's tooth crackling delicious.
Hershey bar- "The most boring candy ever"
Wendy's - "Sniffing our noses in Arby's business for over 40 years"
Exxon Mobil- "Have you been raped today?" "Let us. Rape you." "Bend over buddy" "You've get a middle finger, we've got the upper hand" (I know poor little gas stations don't control gas prices, but I don't see the people that do, so you're the only tangible thing we customers have to verbally abuse)
Mrs. Buttersworth- "Look mom, the sticky stuff comes out of the head" (mom blushing, it certainly does sweety, it certainly does)
Pop-Tarts- "The gateway to diabetes" "We are Pop-Tart kids, 10 million obese and growing"
Tostidos- "We're so good, we fill half the bag"
On a side note: If one more person acknowledges that it's Friday the 13th, I may go postal on this joint.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Draft #40
On my way to the UWM game yesterday, I heard a song on the radio that caught my attention. It was a little diddy sung by the ever so talented Black Eyed Peas. The song is titled, My Humps, and it is a very mesmerizing tune. At the next stop light, I almost got out of my car and humped the nearest light pole, I was so hypnotized. The song itself is pure genious, but I couldn't help but notice that this song seemed eerily similar to a song I've heard before. I believe a young lady by the name of Kelis already tapped the "My ass so great, it makes guys do things" market. Her ass, or milkshake as it is referred to, already brought all the boys to the yard, so if all the boys are at the yard, who then is trying to get at Fergi's lovely lady lumps? I'm very confused by all this, so let's take a minute to examine the lyrics of both songs to find some similarities and differences.Milkshake
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
and they're like,
its better than yours,
damn right its better than yours,
i can teach you, but i have to charge
I know you want it,
the thing that makes me,
what the guys go crazy for.
They lose their minds,
the way i wind,
i think its time
[Chorus x2]la la-la la la,
warm it up.
lala-lalala,
the boys are waiting
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
and they're like,
its better than yours,
damn right its better than yours,
i can teach you,
but i have to charge
i can see you're on it,
you want me to teach the
techniques that freaks these boys,
it can't be bought,
just know, thieves get caught,
watch if your smart,
[Chorus x2]la la-la la la,
warm it up,
la la-la la la,
the boys are waiting,
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
and they're like,
its better than yours,
damn right its better than yours,
i can teach you,
but i have to charge
Once you get involved,
everyone will look this way-so,
you must maintain your charm,
same time maintain your halo,
just get the perfect blend,
plus what you have within,
then next his eyes are squint,
then he's picked up your scent,
Refrain once more, and song ends.
My Humps
What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump,my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)
I drive theses BROTHERS crazy i do it on the daily
they treat me really nicely
they buy me all these ice-ys.
Dolce and Gabbana, Fendi and then Donna Karen,
they be sharing all the money,
got me wearing fly gearrrrr i aint askin.
They say they love my ass 'n,
SeVen Jeans, True Religion,
I say no, but they keep givin'
So I keep on takin'
And no I ain't fakin'
We can keep on datin'
and I keep on demonstrating.
My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got you,
She's got me spending.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me.
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, on me, on me
What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon' do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'm a make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
'Cause of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)
I met a girl down at the disco.
She said hey, hey, hey yea let's go.
I could be your baby, you can be my honey
Lets spend time not my money.
Well mix your milk with my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa
Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.
They say I'm really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancin' next to me,
Tryin' to feel my hump, hump.
Lookin' at my lump, lump.
You can look but you can't touch it,
If you touch it I'ma start some drama,
You don't want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don't pull on my hand boy,
You ain't my man, boy,
I'm just tryin' ta dance boy,
And move my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps
My lovely lady lumps
My lovely lady lumps
In the back and in the front.
My lovin' got you,
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me.
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, on me, on me.
What u gon' do wit all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get,get,get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump,
What u gon' do wit all that ass?
All that ass in side dem jeans?
I'ma make, make, make, make you scream,
Make u scream, make u scream
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.
What you gon' do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I'ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.
In the middle of the, My Humps song, they make a reference to mixing cocoa puff with milk. I'm not sure what they are talking about, but it sounds like they are trying to make a milkshake of some kind. Also, Fergi doesn't appear to be charging for her lumps/hump, but the guys keep on givin and she just keeps on takin. Kelis, on the other hand, insists that the boys pay for the milkshake. I wonder if she takes credit cards? And if she does, I wonder what shows up on the old Visa statement? People at Visa, "Holy crap, check this out. This guy spent over $2,ooo on milkshakes in one week. What a fatty!"
When asked, "What you gunna do with all that ass, all that ass inside them jeans?" Fergi replied, "I'm a gunna make you scream", while Kelis claims that her milkshake will make you go crazy and lose your mind, two things that could lead a guy to screaming, I suppose. Kelis reminds us that thieves get caught, so no stealing the milkshake. Fergi reminds us that you are not allowed to touch the lumps/hump, but you can look.
In summary, lady lumps are boobies, hump is an ass and a lovely one at that. Milkshake is an ass in motion, or a variety of other things. If you want any of these items, you must bring it, or be able to maintain. You may want to sex the milkshake or the lumps, but you will be charged a fee, and in some cases touching may lead to drama. Side effects of these ladies secondary sexual characteristics include; mental instability, shouting, uncontrollable dance urges. And even though you know you can't have any, you're going to spend all of your money anyhow.
So the moral of all this is as follows. Female shakes her ass and tits, guys come running, go insane, throw money, female accepts money, guys get nothing but an unexpected pants surprise, guys go home. Sounds like a typical night at anytime nudey bar USA............ so I've heard.
Disclaimer: I don't know what I'm talking about.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Draft #39
Fun with e-mail:Yesterday I had an interesting conversation with a female co-worker via e-mail. We were both talking about how fun it would be to not have to work, a concept I spend most days dreaming about. One of us suggested that we go on strike, and then the snowball kept rolling from there.
Me: Go on strike, hey? Unfortunately, I'm quite spineless and I rather enjoy food, shelter, and clothing. Sometimes I can go without the clothes, but I've grown rather fond of the food and shelter.
Co-worker: Ehhh, shelter's not that big a deal, just pitch a tent.
Me: Boy, I'm not sure about that. Do you have any experience in the field of tent pitching?
CW: Hell yes, I can single-handedly pitch our tent in pouring rain or snow, not sure about the snow actually.
Me: That's very good to hear because sometimes if a tent isn't pitched properly, it tends to lose some of its sturdiness. It's important to have a strong base.
CW: Yes, I'm very skilled with the hammer.
Me: Again, that's reassuring news because without hammer skills, most amateur tent pitchers have trouble hitting the head of the spike with smooth precision.
CW: Yes, hitting the head of the spike which is 47.823 degrees into the ground is difficult, and can only be mastered by a pro.
Me: Wow a pro, I am very impressed. You must have studied numerous films or videos to gain such an understanding of this craft.
CW: No, it's just an inborn instinct I have.
Me: I'm running out of ideas on where to go with this, besides asking you to make a personal demonstration on how to pitch a tent, you know, in case I ever run out of shelter.
CW: Ok, I'll bring one to the office tomorrow and do it in the middle of the switchboard room. That way, if any of you want to get away, you can just crawl in there and eat a Snickers.
Me: Wait a second, why am I eating the Snickers?
CW: I honestly can't tell you where that comment came from, ignore previous statement.
Me: Besides, wouldn't you be a little embarrassed doing that in front of everybody?
CW: Why be embarrassed to showcase a talent like that?
Me: How right you are! You could make a lot of money starring in your own video that demonstrated your talents.
CW: Only if it was purely demonstrational though.
Me: You can rest assured that the video will portray you in a very tasteful way. You will certainly gain my respect because sometimes even a person, who has your skill level, isn't always able to showcase those skills in front of the camera or an audience.
CW: At least you would be impressed. I could always make it into a reality show.
Me: You think you could handle that kind of a splash. Reality shows are big time stuff.
CW: Well I know for sure that this is something the public would be interested in.
Me: We should probably get started on this as soon as possible then, while the public's interest is still peaked.
CW: Hey wait a minute, what is your role in this whole thing? I need to know what you're getting credited for.
Me: What I'm getting credit for?
CW: You said we should get started on this. I'm just wondering why you think you're included in my debut?
Me: Well so far this is all talk. Now while I don't doubt the level of your skills, it is customary for an aspiring made for television tent pitcher like yourself to have a few live trials, rehearsals if you will, before performing your talent on tape. I am merely volunteering to be your assistant for your tryout and rehearsal secessions. If the executives like what they see from you, they typically replace your volunteer assistant with a professional assistant. I'm just letting you know that I'm always available to help you polish your skills before you go big time.
CW: I can't help but laugh! I throw up my hands, you win. You know, you could go into that profession though, the professional personal assistant business.
Me: This has been really, really entertaining. You're quite the quick witted gal.
CW: Thanks, that's quite the compliment.
Me: That's just the tip of the iceberg. I guess after today, you'd have to be considered very open-minded and experimental as well.
CW: I suppose one could assume that.
Me: Oh boy, on that note, I would like to extent to you an invitation to the pants party.
CW: A pants party in the particular tent I just pitched?
Me: I'm making a reference to the movie Anchorman, if you've never seen it, then that last sentence probably didn't make sense.
CW: I know you are, I was kidding.
Me: Wait a second, you mean to tell me that you've just been joking around the whole day? What a downer!
CW: Sorry, hope your day goes a little better after this huge blow, talk to you later.
I think I called her a saucy vixen after that. This was all in good fun, the co-worker is not a slut. Just two people wasting time while on company time.
Later on that day, one of the lunch ladies started to get a bit fresh with me.....
LL: Hey, you growing a beard?
Me: No, I just get a little lazy on Mondays.
LL: Well I think it would be a very nice looking beard.
Awkward pause........
Me: Thank you...............your beard is coming in nicely as well. Just kidding, she didn't have a beard.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Draft #38
Part of me wishes I was old enough to enjoy the true genious this modern day version of the Odd Couple had to offer, but sadly enough I probably watched Perfect Strangers as a ten year old just to snicker at Larry's angry face whenever Balki pulled one of his pranks, like sitting on the couch upside down while singing the star-spangled banner in broken English.
I sat down for a moment to interview Mark Linn Baker, the actor most famous for his portrayal of Larry Appleton on the show. Perfect Strangers was on the air from 1986 till 1993. Many of it's backstage rumors never have been resolved to this day, and hopefully with the help of Mark, we'll get to the bottom of what actually went on during the rollar coaster ride that was, one of the greatest sitcoms of its era.
Hucklebuck: First of all, one of the biggest rumors surrounding the show was the sexuality of your co-star, Bronson Pinchot the lovable Balki. Was he or was he not, homosexual?
Mark: That was the question many of us on the show were trying to figure out. Afterall, Bronson is French so his natural demeanor was a bit on the fruity side. I guess I became very suspicious sometime around season three I believe. We were in a cast meeting and Bronson announced to the writers that he would be comfortable in any gay or homo-erotic situations that his character Balki might find himself in during future episodes if that was an avenue the writers were thinking of taking. We all kind of looked at each other from across the table in a daze with our mouths wide open like holy crap, did he just say that? And you have to understand, you didn't just go around saying stuff like that in those days, look what it did to Ellen's career when she came out at first.
Hucklebuck: Well that wouldn't necessarily make Bronson a homosexual, after all, he's an actor, that's what actors do, they pretend to be things they really aren't.
Mark: That's true, but not a lot of actors, straight actors, will go out of their way to volunteer themselves for that kind of a role, willingly.
Hucklebuck: Touche Mr. Baker, touche. Obviously, Bronson's suggestion peaked the curiosity of your fellow actors, but to this day do you actually know the definitive sexual preference of Bronson?
Mark: I would just like to state that Bronson never made one sexual advance towards me. Having said that though, Bronson is as gay as a maypole. The guy knits doilies in his freetime. He drives a pink Geo Metro for crying out loud.
Hucklebuck: When did you first realize, without doubt, that Bronson was indeed homosexual?
Mark: I'm not sure I should be telling you this, it's a little graphic.
Hucklebuck: Mark, you are a struggling actor who's done nothing of significance in over a decade. It's been reported that you lived in a local YMCA for almost two years before you could find a job that could provide you with efficient shelter. So we can stop the interview right now and I can tear up the $2,000 check we just gave you, or you can be a good little man, and spill the beans, what's it gunna be?
Mark: A-----ll right! But I would just like the public to know how much of a miserable bastard you really are.
Hucklebuck: Fair enough
Mark: Bronson, if you're watching this, I'm sorry, I never meant to do this. I'm desperate and I could really use the exposure. You understand, don't ya buddy? I've been watching you on the Surreal Life, and I'm just swelled with jealousy. I figured if Jose Canseco can make himself famous again by knocking other people down, why can't I?
Hucklebuck: Stop babbling and get to the point Mark.
Mark: Well, we were in the middle of rehearsal and the director told us to take five. I went to my dressing room to relax and receive a quick massage from my personal assistant. Bronson kept slipping up on one of his lines before the break and I thought of some advice to give him during the massage to help out. So I left my room to head over to see Bronson and I knocked on his dressing room door a couple times and he didn't answer. Now usually, you're not allowed to enter another actor's dressing quarters without permission, but I'm Mark Linn Baker damn it, the star of the show and I had my own set of rules. And what I saw next, was so despicable, I gasped for air and nearly fainted. Bronson had actor Jo Payton bent over and the two were going at it like beavers in heat. For those of you not familiar with Mr. Payton's work, he played the role of Harriette Winslow, the elevator operator at the building that Larry and Balki worked in. I believe Jo had his character Harriette spun into another series after we were cancelled, I think it was called Family Crackers or Jamboree Matters, something like that, not really sure. Anyway, from that moment forward I was sworn to keep what I saw in Bronson's dressing room a secret, but now the silence is broken and I'm sure Bronson will never speak to me again.
Hucklebuck: This Jo Payton you are referring to, is his full name Jo Marie Payton-France?
Mark: Yeah, that's him, I guess the cat's out the bag on him being gay.
Hucklebuck: Didn't you think it was odd, that you had a male actor on your show who's character's name was Harriette?
Mark: Now that you mention it, it does seem kind of awkward. But it was the 80's, those were crazy times man.
Hucklebuck: (rolling eyes and shaking head in bewilderment)
Mark: What?
Hucklebuck: You truly are a stupid, stupid man. A halfwitted buffoon. Jo Marie Payton-France is a woman! Her character Harriette Winslow is a woman. How are you first realizing this now?
Mark: Well that would explain her terribly large man-boobs.
Hucklebuck: You heard it here first folks, Balki from the hit sit-com Perfect Strangers is not gay afterall. He just prefers deep-voiced, large boned-ed women.
Well I hope you enjoyed our behind the scenes look into the world of Perfect Strangers. They epitomized the fall from grace that many shows of that era experienced. Those were definitely crazy times, how else could a no talent ass clown like Bob Saget have not one, but two hit TV shows? He played the same equally annoying person in both Full House and America's Funniest Home Videos. What was with our infatuation for shows or movies featuring a family that had more than one father? Full House, My Two Dads, and the 3 Men and a Baby trilogy were all the rage, and whoever tapped into the that market kept coming up with pure gold. We also fell in love with an accordian playing, cheese loving nerd named Steve and a cat chasing alien named Alf. So whether you liked Joey or Uncle Jesse the most, we can all agree that we as a people were not thinking clearly and that we were easily entertained, very easily. Oh and Bronson Pinchot's (Balki) character, Jean-Luc Rieupeyroux, on Step-by-Step was one of the worst characters in the history of mankind. Nobody replaces the Code man, nobody!
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Draft #37
The Legendary Stories of John Ostowski- Liver Slayer Extraordinaire
Legend has it that John Ostowski once ripped the boot off of a homeless person and filled it with whiskey right in front of the bewildered street bum's eyes. With the boot full of whiskey in hand, John challenged this lowly vagabond to run around the block and if upon his return, the boot of whiskey was not completely drank in full, John offered to give the man a crisp one hundred dollar bill. But, if John DID drink the entire boot of whiskey before the homeless man returned, then not only would the homeless man NOT receive the one hundred dollars, but John would be allowed to deliver one crushing blow to the homeless man's kidney.
The old bum, weak from many cold and starving nights on the street, began dreaming of all the wonderful things he could buy with a hundred dollars. Soon visions of hot apple pie and candied gum drops started dancing through his weary head, and the old man was filled with many warm thoughts. Gus, as the old man is referred to, hasn't had an offer like this since he was forced to the streets and he couldn't think of a reason not to take John's challenge. But then Gus got to thinking. Having spent years on the street, Gus was privy to all the deceit and shady underhandedness this world had to offer, and something started to smell fishy to Gus, and for once it wasn't his underwear.
"Wait a second young fellow, how will I know upon my return, that you actually drank the whiskey and didn't just pitch it down the sewer?" John, a street savy minded person himself, knew that Gus was a desperate man and that he would do almost anything for a hundred dollars. John became furious with Gus's line of questioning and declared, "Since you doubted me old man, you've just bought yourself a second blow to the kidney if I am successful!" Gus was so excited about the possibility of a free one hundred dollars that he totally underestimated what a blow to the kidney would do from a man of John's intimidating 6'4'' stature. And now that the stakes were raised to two punches, Gus started to worry about what this physical punishment might do to a weak elderly man like himself, he surely wouldn't last the winter with two very badly bruised kidneys, one maybe, but not two.
But Gus was still up to the challenge, and he knew no man, no matter how tall in stature, or how defined a jawline, could possibly drink that much whiskey in such a short amount of time. So with one boot, Gus started on his way, brisk at first but eventually the years caught up to Gus and his meager pace was reduced to a pathetic limp thanks to the old war injury he sustained.........in the war. But Gus was a determined old hoot, and he finally turned that last corner and he could see in the distance that John was still suckling from the rim of the boot so maybe, just maybe old Gus had a chance. Suddenly Gus's limp burst into a gear that could almost be considered a jogging pace and John became impressed that the old man had made it back so soon.
Gus was within twenty yards of the finish line and noticed John was holding the boot at his side, no longer drinking. Gus approached John and stood quietly, eager with anticipation to see if John had actually finished the entire boot of whiskey. He was scared to ask John if the whiskey was all gone in fear of angering the beastly figure. John just stood statuesque, staring Gus right in the eye with a very cold expression and in that moment, he raised the boot to his mouth and finished the last swallow. Gus leaped in the air swinging his arms in wild excitement for the victory was his.
"Wahoo, I did it, you owe my one hundred dollars!"
John wiping mouth with forearm, "The hell I do old man."
Gus, "But I won, I made it around the block and I just saw you finish the last swallow."
John, "No you didn't."
Gus, "YES, I did."
John, "You calling me a liar." "Cause I ain't no liar!" And before Gus could respond, John grabbed him by his tattered rags and dragged his ass to the back of a nearby alley and beat the living crap out of Gus. Gus pleaded for mercy but soon stopped resisting as the repetitive blows were too numerous to sustain. John made his way to the Pizza pub for a slice while Gus lay mangled and battered from his barehanded demise.
Nobody ever saw Gus again, not that anybody really knew who Gus was. John's whiskey boot tale has been passed down from years of story tellers and many people claim the legend is true. They say he finished the boot of whiskey minutes before old Gus ever turned that last corner and that John was just toying with him. Whatever the case may be, let it be known that the man loves his whiskey, and that he is NOT a dirty liar.
*This story is complete fiction. No hobos were murdered in the making of this entry and any similarities to the main character are strictly coincidental.
