Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Draft #68
Random Questions
Has Reece's crossed the line by introducing their new caramel filled peanut butter cups? I think they have, but I will not protest against finding them in my Easter basket this year. Mom said last year was the last year she'd be giving us baskets, but I've got a feeling she's going to cave in once again.
What is the proper response for someone who continues to call you "muy malo"? This lady at work keeps calling me that because I never eat anything she brings into work. She knows the rules, I laid them out months ago! No snacking at work. I am not the bad guy in this charade. I'm sure your breakfast burritos are muy bueno, pero no quierdo any por favor. Step off senorita!
This same lady tried making me wear beads today. I said that wouldn't be necessary. She said it was. Then my female boss, who happened to be nearby, says to me, "So you're not a bead guy?" while winking at me. Is that wrong? Were my feelings of discomfort appropriate? Does she think I'm gay now? Was it too much to assume that since I don't want beads, she might automatically think I want nothing to do with females removing their tops?
Has anyone else ever been burned by asking someone what that crap on their forehead was on an Ash Wednesday? I didn't realize people did that until college.
Have you ever confused a male for a female when working as a gas station attendant? I know I have, and let me tell you, there is no easy way of working yourself out of that jam. It makes for an extremely awkward situation on both ends.
Don't you find it troubling that certain proper names are used in ways other than identifying a person? My toaster is on the Fritz. Man, I really need to use the John. Boy, you got here Justin time. He punched the guy Andy spit on him too. Just another Bill in the mail. Don't go using your Peter if you're not gunna wear a Jimmy.
Do you ever wonder what the guy from the Micro-Machines commercials is up to these days? You know, the guy that talks really fast. There's gotta be a market for someone with those skills besides a cattle auction.
Did you know that the "Time to Make the Doughnuts" guy is dead?
Is there anything more confusing than a fax machine?
Would you buy a T-shirt that said, "I spilled marinara right there-ah" with an arrow pointing to a marinara stain? Just asking.
Do you think there's ever been a lady that's wondered whether or not Robo Cop had a Robo penis? There's a lot of freaks out there.
When did Little Caesar's stop delivering? Why was I the last to know? Does anyone want to go to Rocky Rococo's with me? Who would steal thirty bag of lunches?
Did you see the recent consumer report regarding Hot Pockets? The report indicates that individuals who've consumed more than twenty Hot Pockets within the last four months have a 92% chance for kidney failure, cardiac arrest, and blindness all within two weeks of consuming that amount of product. Trying to curve the problem by eating Lean Pockets will only result in serious cases of anal seepage and numerous unidentifiable toe nail funguses. (I prefer fungeses over fungi)
Why doesn't Mr. T have his own cereal anymore?
Did you see the Arby's commercial with the skinny Hulk Hogan? Genious! Whatcha gonna do?
Was the character Mr. Belvedere really a gay butler? Was it an assumption we the viewing audience were supposed to make? Or was he an openly gay butler? I caught a piece on I Love the 80's about this show and I thought they were discussing this topic but I wasn't sure. If he was, that part of the show completely passed me by as a 7 year old viewer.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Draft #67
"I ended my career on the right note," Jason McElwain told the Associated Press by phone Thursday. "I was hotter than a pistol!" In case you haven't heard, Jason is a seventeen-year-old senior who hit six 3-pointers in the final four minutes of his high school's final regular season basketball game. What makes the story so special, is that Jason is autistic, he is the team's manager, and this was the only game he's ever suited up for. I swear I've seen this on an episode of Family Matters? Didn't Steve Urkel, the team's manager, get thrown into a game once, and eventually hit the winning shot becoming the hero? Maybe that wasn't an episode, but this real life Bobby Boucher has captured the hearts of thousands of people, and he can die a happy man knowing that he drained twenty points in the only varsity basketball game he ever played.When I first heard that Jason had autism, I thought to myself, what is autism? According to dictionary.com, autism is a psychiatric disorder of childhood characterized by marked deficits in communication and social interaction, preoccupation with fantasy, language impairment, and abnormal behavior, such as repetitive acts and excessive attachment to certain objects. It is usually associated with intellectual impairment. OK, now I know what it is, before this definition, the only thing I knew about autism is that Doug Flutie had a kid that was autistic, and that was about it.
As a former varsity basketball bench warmer, I'm not going to sit here and act like I'm not jealous. I'm very happy for you Jason! It must have been nice to be part of a basketball team that could actually procure a lead large enough that would allow a kid with an intellectual impairment to receive four minutes of playing time. It must have been nice to have a coach that had an ounce of faith in you and humanity for that matter.
I didn't even get four minutes in my entire two year varsity stint! We could have been up by twenty points with two minutes remaining in any given game and I can still remember the look our coach used to give the end of the bench. He would peer over at us, then the clock, back to us, then the clock again, biting his lip, sweating a little, not quite sure if his group of misfits could possibly blow the lead in a minute and a half. After another minute or so of serious deliberation, he would finally walk a few steps closer to us and start waiving his arms violenting like a third base coach, giving us the OK to play. We would all make our way to the scorer's table like a herd of cattle stampeding their way out of a burning barn. So with about 22 seconds and change we would take to the floor knowing that only one thing was certain, that Nate Filzen, our fearless leader of the second stringers known as TJS (Team Jock Strap, a creative acronym designed to give ourselves an identity and to let others know that as the jock strap supports the male nether regions, so the bench warmers support the team) was ready to fire at a moment's notice, whether he was inbounding the ball, standing at halfcourt, or in the midst of a heavy quadruple-team, that ball was being launched without consciousness and an utter disregard for most of the laws of Physics. If Jason had Nate "Quick Trigger" Filzen on his team, no way he scores twenty points. Jason would have to literally run up to Nate and gnaw the the fingers off his hands to unleash the mighty grip Nate keeps on the ball. It would have been a terrible sight.
Before our senior season when we hired Todd Lofy as team manager, I was actually in charge of water cooler duties. I would fill it up before games and make sure it was emptied and cleaned after the games. I never passed the water out to my teammates in a little cup though, my pride and I had to draw the line somewhere. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, where's my cover story? Where's my legions of faithful students to carry me off the court? I scored five career points as a varsity basketball player and it was at three different venues, you all had your opportunities! Oh well, at least Jason rose to the occasion and did what many other scrubs past and present, have never been able to do, he etched his name into basketball lore.
This Week in Basketball:
Monday: Bucks @ Nuggets
Tuesday: N/A
Wednesday: Bucks @ Suns/ Marquette @ Louisville
Thursday: UW @ Michigan St.
Friday: N/A
Saturday: Bucks vs. Knicks/ Horizon League Semifinals/ Marquette vs. Providence/ UW @ Iowa/Duke vs. UNC
Sunday: N/A
Friday, February 24, 2006
Draft #66
As youngsters, my brother and I were forced to do a lot of things that we didn't necessarily enjoy doing. Most of these activities were in the field of manual labor while others were just plain boring. My father has a very strict "There's a time for work, and there's a time for play" policy which naturally rubbed against the fibers of my "well if we're gunna waste the afternoon working, we might as well have fun doing it" policy. I submit to you the following:
Killing chickens at uncle Jerry's farm
This activity was done on an annual basis for about a three year stretch, and I hated every second of it. Killing chickens took an entire day to complete from start to finish, and I spent most of it trying to dodge the messy parts. A typical day would start out with the men at the chicken coop. Haus (my brother) and I would be in charge of retriving the chickens from the coop and bringing them to the bloody wooden stump just outside of the entrance. From there, we would give the chicken to uncle Jerry who would place the chicken's head gently on the stump where my father was waiting with bloody ax in hand. And with one foul swoop, off with it's head. I'll have to admit, that I really didn't mind this part of the job because for a grade schooler, nothing could be more exciting than chasing a headless chicken through a field. Those guys really bounced about for good long while until they finally stopped twitching and succumbed to their eventual death. With Haus and I working the retrieval to and from the stump, and the men manning the head removal process, we were a finely tuned, well oiled machine that moved with the precision of drunken three-legged mule with a bad case of mad cow.I'm pretty sure I was the wrench clogging up the whole engine. I was a sissy pants that felt more comfortable in the confines of an air-conditioned basement playing Nintendo than I was in the grime and grit of the country. I was probably pussy-footin it every step of the way, holding the chicken by the legs like it was a dirty diaper, walking extra slow as to not anger the massive fowl. Sometimes the assembly line would be moving a little to quick for Haus and I, and we would lose a chicken or two in the high grasses of the field. Then my dad would get upset and ask us how the hell we could lose an entire chicken. To which my response would be, "They're moving pretty quick dad." I can still remember the image of the chickens hopping up and down with blood squirting from the top of their neck, wings flapping wildly with the groan of the next victim in the background.
Once all the chickens were gathered and thrown into the miniature brass tubs, it was off to the basement of the farm house, the underbelly, the dungeon, the boiler room, where it was time to boil, defeather, and gut the chickens. We were met there by my sister and mother and this was the part I detesting the most. Haus and I weren't involved with the boiling process to help loosen up the feathers, but we were given the opportunity to pluck feathers, or reach in through the undercarriage and rip out all the guts, gizzards, intestines, and whatever else smelled like complete shit. I can still recall the horrid stench of that basement and how I wished I could be anywhere else on the planet. I refused to partake in the gut removal especially when gloves weren't being used, so I settled on feather plucking which is up there in the category of things that are great, right next to watching paint dry and moving a piano up nine flights of stairs. I would repeatedly take breaks to go outside and hit rocks with an old wooden baseball bat to help regain my composure, but they kept sucking me back in.
Once the chickens were boiled, plucked, and gutted, it was time to cut these bad boys up so they could be put in ziplock bags to be stored in a freezer in our garage for years at a time because the chicken tasted like crap. Nobody really liked this chicken, maybe because we had all the images burned into our brains, or because the original skin was still on it, or maybe mom just didn't have the right eleven herbs and spices to bring this bird to life, but the chicken was bad and that was some bad chicken man, mess you up! Now while I hated most every second of the experience, I can look back on it now and be thankful that I had the chance to give country life a try. You really appreciate what all has to happen to get your Roundy's frozen chicken breast ready for it's soon to be Foreman style grilling. Thank God for agriculture.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Draft #65
Well I've officially been put on the MUB list today. You may be thinking to yourself, "What the H is he talking about?" I'm glad you asked. Today I am Mentally Unable to Blog! Why you ask? Did I witness a grueling traffic accident on the way to work today? No. Did the boogie man pay me a visit last night? Possibly, but that's not the reason. Are you broken hearted over the fact that the Winter Olympics is making it impossible to view your favorite NBC Thursday Night sitcom's? You're close. My heart is not broken, but rather it has been jolted with a bah-jillion volts of electricity. But Andy, there wasn't a thunderstorm last night. How right you are, my slow befuddled friend! For this electricity is the only kind of electricity that can be supplied by that of a lady.
Ooooooo, you met a lady? Well, not really. I came across a certain girl's profile this morning....on Myspace, and she's the reason I can't concentrate. And on paper, I'm not sure I could write it up any better. We like the same songs, shows, and movies. We're of the same religion, she lives in the area, and to quote something a grandpa might say, "she's quite the looker!" I'm not sure what it is, but I've been real antsy today, not as irritable, these crazy calls don't bother me at all. It's a good feeling knowing a girl like this really exists. I threw her a line and God only knows if she'll respond. I have a link to my blog on my profile through myspace so I decided to post a picture incase she does some investigating, you know, to ensure her that I am not a swamp creature.
I'm the one on the right:
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Draft #64
Growing up, I used to think that......
-Ernest, from Ernest Goes to Camp, was a great actor. He could make you laugh, as well as cry.
-wearing knee pads like Patrick Ewing was something that would be good for my image.
-the Brewers might have a shot this year.
-Glenn Robinson was the greatest thing to hit Milwaukee since Larry Krystkowiak.
-throwing cold, hard, week-old dog feces at classmates during recess was an acceptable activity. My teacher asked me if I played in the toilet at home, and I wish I had the wit to say to her, "Apples and oranges Mrs Schulz, apples and oranges."
-it was a good idea to yell out "peep" in the middle of class just after the teacher warned us that she didn't want to hear another peep. I had to write the word peep on a piece of paper about 500 times. I never did that again.
-I was pretty cool because during gym class when the teacher was instructing us on certain volleyball serving techniques, I was serving overhand during the underhand serve portion of the lesson. I figured, as a sixth grader, that I didn't have time to waste with this girly underhand crap, so I'm just gunna go straight to displaying my overhand prowess. My teacher quickly alerted me that I had a bad attitude.
-buying a girl a bag of M&M's was a sure fire way to get her to like me.
-M.C Hammer had a bright future ahead of him.
-girls were born without vaginas. I thought they painfully developed them around puberty ala the San Andreas Fault or something. Like their crotch just split in half one day and to me, that explained all the bleeding I was hearing about. My parents never gave me the talk, so I had to be informed about this whole girls having vaginas since birth thing, from a family friend. I was like, "no way".
-there was no way a couple snipits from the cookie jar was going to ruin my dinner
-the root beer floats my grandma used to make us were a normal treat that most kids enjoyed. Even if the vanilla ice cream was substituted with rainbow sherbet and the root beer was substituted with Shasta orange flavored soda. It was made with love damn it, and that's all that matters.
-my mom was a raving lunatic for yelling at us when she was washing the dishes while we were downstairs watching TV (a relatively common occurance that moved my brother and I to give each other the, here she goes again look). But now, after analyzing kids from a quasi-grown up viewpoint, I understand completely.
-my sister was totally out of line for hitting me in the head with a football helmet because I refused to vacuum the downstairs, and I still feel the same way.
-badminton was for gays
-I was probably the dumbest person on the planet after purchasing John Elway Football for Nintendo. That game sucked so bad, I can't even put it into words.
-the stop signs with the white bordering were optional thanks to my brother-in-law.
-my collection of WWF action figures would be worth something someday. And that the Macho Man Randy Savage was the greatest wrestler of this or any generation. Or maybe I just liked beef jerky.
-there was nothing better than soda from a soda machine. That whole experience was very thrilling to me.
-stripping a friend of his swimming trunks and throwing them out of the pool so he'd have to go get them wasn't the least bit gay. Those were very innocent times. And I wasn't the only one doing it. Do you think there's ever been a successful lawyer who's used that as his go-to defense. "Your honor. My client, the defendant, was clearly not the only person doing it." Judge, "Court is adjourned then, I hereby find the defendant not guilty on all charges in connection to hornswoggling an elderly woman out of half of her social security savings.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Draft #63
Today I've taken a perfectly good country song about a guy watching his girlfriend drive off into the distance and turned it into a song about a husband begging for sex from his wife. I'm as disgusted as you are.
Settle For A Slowdown
Dierks Bentley
I must look just like a fool here in the middle of the road
standing there in your rearview and getting soaked to the bone
this land is flat as it is mean a man can see for a hundred miles
So I'm still praying I might see the glow of a brake light.
But your wheels just turn, down the road ahead
If it hurts at all you aint showed it yet
I keep a lookin' for the slightest sign
that you might miss what you left behind
I know there's nothing stopping you now
but I'd settle for a slowdown.
I held on longer then I should
Leaving you might change your mind
those bright lights of Hollywood
would fade in time.
But your wheels just turn down the road ahead
If it hurts at all you aint showed it yet
I keep a lookin' for the slightest sign
that you might miss what you left behind
I know there's nothing stopping you now
but I'd settle for a slowdown.
But your wheels just turn down the road ahead
if it hurts at all you aint showed it yet
your just a tiny dot on that horizon line come on tap those brakes
baby just one time
I know there's nothing stopping you now
Im not asking you to turn back around
I'd settle for a slowdown
come on just slow down
I'd settle for a slow down.
Hucklebuck Remix
I'd Settle For A Reach Around
I must look like a fool here, in the middle of our humble abode
I'm standing naked in the living room and your acting terribly ice cold
That look you're giving me is down right mean, your everything but smiles
But I'm still hoping I see some action, cause I wanna get laid tonight
Honey what's it gunna take to get some head
If you're in the mood, you's ain't showed it yet
I keep a lookin for the slightest sign
That you might want to break me off a piece of that behind
There's a whole lotta things I wish you would do
But I'd settle for a reach around
I held on longer than a good husband should
Hoping your libido catches up with mine
You're always wasting my best morning wood
My gift to you is gunna fade with time
Honey what's it gunna take to get some head
If you're in the mood you's ain't showed it yet
I keep looking for the slightest sign
That you might want to break me off a piece of that behind
There's a whole lotta things I wish you would do
But I'd settle for a reach around
I'm begging you for just five minutes of head
We can do it on the couch or take this into the bed
Show me the lady I married who could do it all night long, without any breaks
Baby just one time
My boys are all fired up and they're ready right now
So how about a courtesy reach around
I'd settle for a reach around
Come on, you saucy hose hound
Give daddy his reach around
Monday, February 20, 2006
Draft #62
Saturday ended up being a very, very, long day of drinking. I started at noon and didn't stop till about four or five in the morning on Sunday. Consequently the action packed Saturday led to a slow and lazy Sunday which led to me sleeping a lot, which then led to me dreaming, which leads to today's entry. I never really remember most of my dreams, vividly at least, and I don't recall too much of last nights dream, but the little bit I do remember, was pretty awkward. The sequence I recalled began with me sitting in church, somewhere near the front which is odd because I almost never sit in the front. The next thing I know, people are starting to bail and the service isn't even over yet. I turned back to see what time it was on the giant clock located near the back of the church and it indicated that the service was already an hour and a half long. Apparently, these people were getting bored and had better things to do, and I guess my church now has a giant clock so the congregation knows what time they'd like to leave. I was sticking it out, and eventually the pastor just waived his arms and said, "forget it, the rest of you might as well just leave too." I felt bad for the pastor, everyone was ducking out like he was a bad comedian, bombing away on stage.
So at the urging of the pastor, I leave the church with the four or five others that stuck it out and I make my way home. It was nice outside and I guess I decided to walk to church that day. So I'm heading towards my old home in West Bend and I cut through the parking lot of Jay's Auto Body Shop when all of a sudden I noticed a King Kong type creature who must of stood at least sixteen feet tall, tossing parked cars about as if they were folding chairs. This was a beastly figure with sharp teeth, and I proceeded to walk in his direction despite my usual instincts, which would be to run, like a girl, possibly screaming, definitely peeing, unvoluntarily, trying to avoid grave danger. I'm very calm for some reason, and I've convinced myself that the beast will not notice me. Well, he notices me. And he seems really pissed, and he drops whatever car he was toying with and begins to charge in my direction. At this point, my only reaction was to cover my eyes and hope everything turns out OK. After a few seconds of utilizing this strategy, I remove my hands and find a mascot version of Snuffleupagus standing on two legs staring me in the face. I say mascot version because his suit had that peek hole on it, so the guy inside can see where he is going. The mascot muttered something and I couldn't make out what he was trying to say to me, and the next thing I know, I'm being cold-cocked by Snuffleupagus, that bastard.
I eventually come to, and proceed to do what anyone of us would do after being punched in the face by a lovable children's television character, I walk to a baseball card shop that has been out of business for years. For those of you that may recall, it was the shop that was located next to Blockbuster and eventually moved inside of the Paradise Mall. What better to lift the spirits, than a few packs of baseball cards? Maybe I'd score a Ken Griffey Jr or a Frank Thomas? So I finally arrive at the shop and wouldn't you know it, the place is being held up at gunpoint by a man in a ski mask. This time, I allow my instincts to do the talking and I make a run for it, feverishly sprinting to the nearby Valvoline Oil Change Center. I barged in and tried to hide down below where the mechanics work on the car, but a lady was down there (special note to Vin: I didn't give her an oil change, I almost never score in my dreams, I'm the only person that gets rejected in his own dreams, yeah I don't get it either). And it wasn't a saucy vixen I met down in the underbelly of the garage, rather it was the middle-aged woman I hit with my car when I was in college (during college I hit a lady riding her bike as she was trying to cross the street of an intersection. I had a red light and was trying to make a right turn and I was checking traffic to my left while ignoring everything to my right, which was the direction she was coming from. So I finally found a break in the traffic and proceeded to pull out when I discovered the lady on the bike trying to cross the street. I bumped her front tire and she fell off her bike. And of all the people in the world to hit with your car, I hit a lady who was on her way to a city hall meeting to complain about the taxi service in our town and how bad our drivers were). So I'm face to face with this lady again and she's giving me the same lecture on how I should be more careful and how I shouldn't be in such a hurry, you know, middle-aged bickering.
And that was my dream. Random and full of unexpected twists. And on a totally unrelated topic, Duke women's basketball freshman standout, Abby Waner has denied my request to become friends via myspace.com. And currently, she has either deleted her entire profile on myspace, or I am now a restricted user and no longer have permission to view her profile. Either way, the message has been sent loud and clear, Abby is not interested in yours truely. I have been re--------jected!
This Week in Basketball:
Monday: N/A
Tuesday: UWM vs. Detroit/ Bucks vs. Nets
Wednesday: Bucks @ Bulls
Thursday: UW @ Northwestern
Friday: Bucks vs. Sixers
Saturday: Bucks @ Hawks/ Marquette @ Notre Dame
Sunday: UW vs. Minnesota
Friday, February 17, 2006
Draft #61
Yesterday I thought it was a little odd that the cafeteria would be serving fish on a thursday since they almost always serve fish for lunch on fridays (which is a pretty great idea seeing as how nobody is possibly going to have fish for dinner on a friday night, idiots!) But when I looked at what's on today's menu, everything started to make sense. Today's lunch is a themed meal. And boys and girls, do you know what today's theme is? Well let's see, it's February, and Valentine's usually comes to mind when I think of this month, but that holiday has already passed and it's not like they would have, a dip your lunch in chocolate day, that would be silly and not to mention bad for your health. February? Ummm..........Oh wait, I know, February is the month for leap years, so perhaps your lunch will have a, things that used to leap when they were living theme? They'll serve frogs and things that are green, like a frog. Am I right, or am I right?
No you're wrong, actually. Today's meal will be a tribute to Black History Month! And I'm not even kidding.
Today's menu includes:
-Baked chicken (I bet it would have been fried chicken, but none of the food is fried on our campus, some sort of health movement thing)
-Mac N' Cheese
-Black Eyed Peas
-Candied Yams
-Turnip Greens
-7 layer salad
-Cornbread
-Watermelon
-Peach cobbler
-With your choice of extra-chocolately chocolate milk or a personal pitcher of Kool-Aid (OK, I made that last one up, but the rest is real)
Is this whole thing wrong? Or am I just a product of political correctness and racial sensitivity? I'm confused. If they served brats for a German theme or burritos on cinco de mayo, I wouldn't really care, but this seems different to me. Because in the past they have done German and Mexican themes and the kitchen staff even dressed up accordingly, so how will they dress today? How does the traditional black man dress? I'm pretty sure he doesn't wear lederhosen or a poncho, so I don't know what to expect. Will the cafeteria be divided when I get down there? Personally, I'm a little disappointed that they left cheese doodles, grape soda, and grits off the menu, but I guess I'll just have to make do, cause after all, honkies like mac n' cheese too.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Draft #60
So today at work there are only four of us here, doing the work of eight people. I'm taking so many calls I don't even have time to day dream. I wasn't even planning on writing an entry for today but I can't get what this be-och said to me out of my mind.
Andy: Regular intro
Lady: Are you guys out?
When working at a switchboard, the operator is generally looking for the following:
-the name of a department
-the first and last name of a person
-by giving any information other than that, and you are wasting everybody's time
So naturally when this lady asked her question, I became quite perplexed.
Andy: I'm not sure what you are referring to?
Lady: It's snowing really bad and the buses will be shutting down at 3pm
Andy: OK?
At this point I'm thinking that this lady, is thinking that she is talking to a school of some kind.
Andy: You have the operator at Blah Blah and Blahbury
Lady: I know. My husband works there, and I don't want anybody to get stranded at work.
Now I'm confused because she didn't give me a name or a department and she thinks I'm in a position to alert 5,ooo employees that the buses won't be running, which I'm not. I transfer calls, I don't take messages for anyone. And her thinking that I would know, on my own, who would actually handle a call like hers, is a massive assumption.
Andy: Would you like me to transfer you to your husband's line?
Lady: No, just take the message and tell everybody that the buses will be down.
Andy: I don't see anyone else, I'm in a switchboard room (all day, I didn't even leave once when the fire alarm was sounding, I was afraid the calls would get backed up, I sure hope I don't die that way, burning alive with my headset on, taking calls for the man)
Lady: Do you understand anything I'm saying, or are you just that stupid?
Right here, is where I wished my job description allowed for me to tee off on this witch by calling her a dirty whore bag or a douche wad, but unfortunately for me, I had to just sit there and take it. I transferred her to the lobby of our main office while muttering under my breath as if I were Chris Farley (you're that stupid).
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Draft #59
Scene: reception hall
Event: a wedding
Speaker: the best man, Harry (this role will be played by Will Ferrell)
Groom: Bob
Bride: Betty
Harry has just been handed the microphone and is ready to make his speech:
It's certainly nice to see all of you here today, a lot of you I haven't seen for years, and some of you not at all before tonight. A lot of you have been asking me how I'm doing? And I'd just like to set the record straight. I'm great, couldn't be better. My cleaning supply sales are through the roof, just had a huge countertop disinfectant purchase from an Elementary school in Sansbro (Harry under breath, "freakin suckers"). There's no future Mrs. Gradorfski in sight yet, bet there's been some nibbles, and I've nibbled back some, yah, yah, yah! So if any of you ladies are interested in what-cha ya see, ya know where I'll be.......the BAR!
But enough about me, tonights about my main man Bobby! Ow! (Harry drops microphone to use his finger to point at Bobby as he tells him he loves him) You dah man, Bobby, you are the freakin man. How long have we known each other? What, like since we were six, no, it was five, so that would be like OVER thirty years? Damn we've had some good times. Remember when we caught your neighbors doing it in their pool, ah man, that was something, you were all like, "Hey, stick it in her ear!" Remember that? We totally got busted, I couldn't watch TV for like two weeks, that was complete sucksville, you still owe me for that one Bobby. Hey you, in the buffet line, don't miss out on the veal. It. Is. Awesome! I don't know what veal is, I don't know where it comes from, but this veal is just.......it's like.............
It's like Bobby and Betty. Sure, they might not be the perfect couple, they fight, they..... fight a lot actually. But like the veal, they're undefined. You can't label this love right here. But they're a good thing. Look at them, I mean Betty, look at you, you are ONE hot, piece. I'd like to lather your body with Mott's apple sauce and sprinkle you up with some cinnamon. We'd get real sticky, but old papa bear sure would clean you up lickady split, before the bees came. (At this point Harry has really lost all sense of where he is and what he's doing)
Guy from the audience, "Why don't you take five, Harry?" Take five? Why don't I take you out back and give YOU five. A five knuckle shuffle right upside your face, if you don't shut it. This is what I'm talking about people. You see marriage has been confusing me for years. From an outsider's pirspektus....perspective, sorry, people seem so eager to jump into this most blessed of unions. Like their ass is on fire and marriage is the only tub of water in town. It's mind, boggling. And then when these same people are on the other side of that fence, it's like, wow, I didn't know it would be like THIS? You find yourself hoping a field of midgets swoops through and carries your significant other off into a land of gum drops and pudding pops. Somewhere happy. So you don't have to deal with them for awhile. They'll be safe and..........(Bobby leans over to Betty and whispers, a field of midgets? Betty shrugs her shoulders)
Now Betty, I've got some advice for you and I don't want you to take it the wrong way, but Bob can be a bit of an ass. Bob luuuuuuves Bob. It's all about numero uno, and you know that. I'm sure you didn't get into this whole thing without mentally bracing yourself for a few forgotten birthdays, or a missed anniversary or two. Growing up, we used to kid each other that Bob loved Bob so much that he was going to marry himself and pay a scientist to clone younger versions of himself for children. (Bob out loud: We never said stuff like that!) Oh, well............I may have made that up just now, but as a wise man once said.........Don't let the magic die. Keep this thing alive you two. Cause it's good, good stuff and it's only gunna get better. So what, if it took eight years to get here. Bobby's been pretty sure about you for sometime now and you two cats are ready. (Harry starts randomly singing the song, "I can see cleary now" by Johnny Nash) I can see all obstacles in my way.......take it away Lorraine!! (Two male members of the wedding party now have Harry by the arms and are dragging him away from the head table) Lorraine!! Let's dance! Fuck! my arm, I'm O.K.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Happy Valentine's Day
What's the deal with Valentine's Day?
There's no signature drink to commemorate this holiday
Not everybody has a sweetheart, they can call their own
I'd like to know what I should be drinking, when I'm sitting home all alone
New Year's we drink champagne, and kiss people we don't know
And then receive the customary shot, to the big boys down below
President's day we drink whiskey, until our eardrums bleed
I'm sure that's what George would have wanted, I'm sure of it indeed
St. Patty's day is my favorite, spend all day drinking lot's of Guiness
Going out to the bars, drinking warm green beer, that taste just like me piss
Easter is not AS clear cut, but you should be drinking something white
It's common knowledge that the Easter bunny is allergic to most beers, especially Bud Light
Memorial, Independence, and not to mention Labor Day
Are all great times to remember the troops, their honor we should pay
By gathering outside with our friends, for a massive fireworks display
While drinking loads of domestic beer, until everything is fuzzy, and a mild shade of gray
Halloween we drink, whatever's in that big black steaming cauldron
Even if it was brewed, by a guy who looks like he molested childron
Thanksgiving there's nothing better, than some vino after turkey
And Christmas just ain't Christmas, without some egg nog in my cup, shaped just like Bert & Ernie
But Valentine's Day? What's a boy to do
I could drink my favorite soda, Code Red Mountain Dew
It's sweet and red and makes me feel real sick
When I chug an ice cold two-liter in 12 minutes, dang, that's really quick
So Cupid help me out, I'm desperately seeking your advice
Mix me something special would ya, and throw it on some ice
Better make it strong my friend, I need to dull the pain
Ma lady left me just last night, and she didn't even explain
She was my one and only, my everything, and this it was the truth
So Q-pee won't you join me, while I down this entire bottle of vermuth
A little something
I have fallen victim to a chain survey of some kind, I will probably have something in addition to this by day's end.
Four jobs you have had in your life:
-a damn good paper delivery boy for the West Bend Daily News
-a burger flipper/maker for Burger King
-a cashier/gas pumper for Paradise Mobil
-a switchboard jockey for an insurance company
Four movies you could watch over and over:
-Anchorman
-Napoleon Dynamite
-The Wedding Singer
-Major League (and only the first one, the rest were absolute crap)
Four places you've lived:
-West Bend
-Milwaukee
-Nate's apartment for an entire weekend (Thanks again by the way)
Four TV shows you love to watch:
-Seinfeld
-How I Met Your Mother
-My Name is Earl
-The Office (ESPN and what not should all just be a given)
Four places you've been on vacation:
-The Smoky Mountains of Tennessee
-Myrtle Beach, South Carolina (Home of the one nippled man apparently)
-Kissimmee, Florida (Orlando, Disney World)
-Niagra Falls
Four of your favorite foods:
-pizza
-the chicken/rice/vegetable hodge podge I've been making lately
-Subway
-whatever you can find on the grill at a barbeque
Four places you'd rather be right now:
-on the beach watching the ladies stroll by
-tailgating at Miller Park
-at Kurt Stachnik's house, open hand slapping him across the face for not coming out with us this Saturday
-in a hot tub with someone naughty
Four sites you visit daily:
-My linked blogs
-ESPN.com
-CBS Sportsline.com
-Ragingaycowboys.com (Just kidding)
Four Bloggers I am tagging:
-I'm not tagging anybody, this nonsense must stop
For a good time, go to Yahoo. Type in Arby's. Hit search. Don't select any of the options, rather click on images. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. Think of this as my Valentine's Day gift, to you.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Draft #58
Will Brett Favre play another season? The football world awaits in eager anticipation as the greatest quarterback of all time ponders whether or not he should retire. Personally I'd like to see Brett play until his arm falls off, until we win another Super Bowl, or until we can cryogenically freeze him for when the Packers have an offensive line, a running game, and a killer defense. But for now, all we can do is sit on our hands and wait for what the final verdict will be. However, we here at Hucklebuck Inc. have obtained a copy of the list of demands that Brett had submitted to the Packers brass recently. Brett stated that if all of these demands were met by the organization, that he would consider making a decision within the next five weeks. Brett Favre's demands:
-complete ownership of Lambeau Field
-Mike Holmgren as head coach
-six sea otters
-a movie theatre built in his honor, showing nothing but highlights from his playing days
-a 17 foot gold statue of himself just outside of every entrance to Lambeau
-full scholarships for all of his kids to attend the college of their choice
-his own signature line of tree stands
-a 12 episode guaranty for his mother to have her own sitcom on ABC, titled The Bonita Favre Variety Hour
-a lifetime supply of mint Oreo ice cream
-two turtled doves
-a bicycle once ridden by Emilio Estevez
-the milk of a two-headed goat
-boots made from 100% unicorn horns
-his name engraved atop Soldier Field with the inscription, "Best player who ever played on this field, period."
-the severed head of Chris Hovan
-an offshore gambling account that refills itself to $500, 000 every month
-sixteen, 92 gallon barrels filled with vicodin
-his own brand of peanut butter
-all of Mississippi
-a 92 inch plasma flat screen
-a custom built chopper with naked lady mud flaps
-an Oscar Meyer weiner mobile with four wheel drive
-AC Slater's autograph
-a Lisa Turtle poster
-a jacket worn by Arthur Fonzarelli
-an automatic bid as the 30th man at the next Royal Rumble
-his own holiday celebrating the 4th of every month (and every day in April)
-a PGA Tour card
-5 personal chefs that specialize in Mexican, Italian, American, Chinese, and Denny's.
-the secret to the colonel's eleven herbs and spices
-a pay per view boxing match with Warren Sapp
-an advanced copy of the next Will Ferrell movie
-a batman costume
-a dinosaur egg
-game worn David Beckham jersey and cleats
-an A&W Root Beer vending machine
-a soft serve ice cream machine
-the train set from the show Silver Spoons
-Murdock's navy blue hat he customarily wore on the TV series, the A-Team
Sources close to Hucklebuck Inc. say that the Packers front office is close to meeting all of Favre's demands, but they are having trouble finding a suitable venue for the Warren Sapp boxing match. Warren's people refuse to fight anywhere in the state of Wisconsin while Brett's people are not comfortable with holding the fight in Iraq. Although some have speculated that the two sides could settle on a Vegas location before the week is through when negotiations are expected to be final. As for now, the great state of Wisconsin remains idle, holding its collective breath, hoping that their hero has one more good year in him.
This week in basketball:
Monday: N/A
Tuesday: Bucks vs. Sonics
Wednesday: UWM vs. Chicago-Ill/ Bucks @ Pacers/ UW vs. Ohio St.
Thursday: Marquette vs. Georgetown
Friday: N/A
Saturday: UWM vs. Missouri St./ Marquette vs. Pittsburgh
Sunday: NBA All Star Game
Friday, February 10, 2006
Draft #57
Random shizzle that keeps the griddle on the sizzle.
I recently discovered that I have a superstition that involves bananas. I never, under any circumstances, eat the banana with the sticker on it, first. That banana was deemed the leader of the bunch by somebody, and if you eat it right away, the rest of the bananas will lose their way and eventually start to rot faster than they normally would. As the chief is to the indians, so is the banana with the chikita label to the rest of the naners. Without them, all is lost.
I also recently discovered that I have problem solving skills. I had accidently purchased a box of Lucky Charms that was too big to be stored in my cupboard. Well, it did fit, but not the way I wanted it to. As stated in an earlier entry, I have a different box of cereal for each day of the work week (different kinds too, I don't just eat Lucky Charms everyday). All the boxes are placed on its side in a longitude fashion, with the boxtop being the only thing you can see when the cupboard is open. All five boxes are in order from left to right according to the days of the week. I eat the same thing on the same day, every week. So you could imagine how disturbed I was to discover what this oversized box of Lucky Charms was doing to my perfect alignment. Thankfully, I hadn't thrown out my previous box of Lucky Charms because there was a couple of bowls left (yeah, I keep backstock on my cereal so at certain points I can be found to have ten boxes in my apartment, and none of the generic crap, brand name stuff baby, that's how I roll). So once the normal sized box was empty, I simply transferred (using a funnel I made out of a paper plate) the Lucky Charms from the big box, into the normal box. As it turns out, you're paying a dollar or so more for the bigger box and you really don't get that much more cereal, what a rip. Another crisis averted, using that good old college-taught know how.
And in a work related matter, the oldest lady in our switchboard department is mysteriously missing. She missed Thursday and Friday of last week, all of this week, and is slated to be out all of next week. With what you ask? Nobody seems to know, although I have a feeling people know and they're just not telling us. Oddly enough the collection folder was passed around with a greeting card though, so something is up. I can't stand not being in the know on this issue. The money is for flowers, and do you think I contributed to this little, flowers for the old bag fund? Hell no I didn't, not if you ain't gunna tell me what's wrong with her. I'm not donating five dollars to a lady with a bad case of hemroids, no way, no how. And this greeting card? I was one of the last people to have a chance to sign it, and what the H do you say to a lady you never talk to who's missing work for an unexplained reason? Everybody had all the cleche lines down already, "Get well" "Come back soon" "We miss you" "We miss you, get well, and we can wait to see you soon". I had nothing left to work with, so I mulled a few options over (Hang in there, thanks for ditching us you miserable, miserable.....) before settling on Git-R-Done signed Larry the Cable Guy parenthesis, Andy. Short and sweet. I put about five seconds of thought into what I wrote and I was a little disappointed that phrase came to me that quickly, cause it's stupid, but oh well, I wasn't going to waste much time thinking of a fraudulently heart warming saying. I wish I could have said, "Hurry back, I'm sick of taking more calls than I should have to, without getting paid extra wages to pick up your slack, you milk this out any longer and you'll regret it, trust me." But if I did that, people might start calling me selfish or crazy and we all know that's simply not true.
Thanks to my being in attendence, the UWM men's basketball squad crushed Youngstown State last night bringing their overall record for games Andy is at to 3-o. UWM had a forty point lead with about ten minutes remaining in the game and the last starter wasn't taken out until around the five minute mark. The head coaches exchange after the game lasted for less than half a second thanks to UWM playing the, let's try to get every player on our team a basket and run our score up to a hundred, in the process, mocking our opponent (who was basically all but defeated by halftime) every step of the way, game. It was fun to watch. Speaking of fun to watch, we were seated in the same section as the women's soccer team and a blonde little number was giving me the, "Who is this guy?" look, which also looks a lot like the "I'd like me some of that" look. I didn't know she or any of the twenty some girls in her section were on the team until they all simultaneously left to head to courtside to get introduced during a timeout. This girl never returned, but I'm pretty sure she digs me. I looked her up on the UWM athletic site today, so I know her name and e-mail address. What should I do about this? And am I a psycho? Please disregard the whole banana, cereal alignment, and greeting card issues before casting judgement.
As soon as my roommate and I exited the doors of the US Cellular Arena, we were approached by a guy handing out flyers. I don't know what about, but before he could explain I shouted out, "I don't know how to read!" We then both sprinted in the opposite direction giggling like school boys. We sure showed that guy what end was up. Please disregard this occurrence while making a decision on whether or not I am a psycho.
I recently discovered that I have a superstition that involves bananas. I never, under any circumstances, eat the banana with the sticker on it, first. That banana was deemed the leader of the bunch by somebody, and if you eat it right away, the rest of the bananas will lose their way and eventually start to rot faster than they normally would. As the chief is to the indians, so is the banana with the chikita label to the rest of the naners. Without them, all is lost.I also recently discovered that I have problem solving skills. I had accidently purchased a box of Lucky Charms that was too big to be stored in my cupboard. Well, it did fit, but not the way I wanted it to. As stated in an earlier entry, I have a different box of cereal for each day of the work week (different kinds too, I don't just eat Lucky Charms everyday). All the boxes are placed on its side in a longitude fashion, with the boxtop being the only thing you can see when the cupboard is open. All five boxes are in order from left to right according to the days of the week. I eat the same thing on the same day, every week. So you could imagine how disturbed I was to discover what this oversized box of Lucky Charms was doing to my perfect alignment. Thankfully, I hadn't thrown out my previous box of Lucky Charms because there was a couple of bowls left (yeah, I keep backstock on my cereal so at certain points I can be found to have ten boxes in my apartment, and none of the generic crap, brand name stuff baby, that's how I roll). So once the normal sized box was empty, I simply transferred (using a funnel I made out of a paper plate) the Lucky Charms from the big box, into the normal box. As it turns out, you're paying a dollar or so more for the bigger box and you really don't get that much more cereal, what a rip. Another crisis averted, using that good old college-taught know how.
And in a work related matter, the oldest lady in our switchboard department is mysteriously missing. She missed Thursday and Friday of last week, all of this week, and is slated to be out all of next week. With what you ask? Nobody seems to know, although I have a feeling people know and they're just not telling us. Oddly enough the collection folder was passed around with a greeting card though, so something is up. I can't stand not being in the know on this issue. The money is for flowers, and do you think I contributed to this little, flowers for the old bag fund? Hell no I didn't, not if you ain't gunna tell me what's wrong with her. I'm not donating five dollars to a lady with a bad case of hemroids, no way, no how. And this greeting card? I was one of the last people to have a chance to sign it, and what the H do you say to a lady you never talk to who's missing work for an unexplained reason? Everybody had all the cleche lines down already, "Get well" "Come back soon" "We miss you" "We miss you, get well, and we can wait to see you soon". I had nothing left to work with, so I mulled a few options over (Hang in there, thanks for ditching us you miserable, miserable.....) before settling on Git-R-Done signed Larry the Cable Guy parenthesis, Andy. Short and sweet. I put about five seconds of thought into what I wrote and I was a little disappointed that phrase came to me that quickly, cause it's stupid, but oh well, I wasn't going to waste much time thinking of a fraudulently heart warming saying. I wish I could have said, "Hurry back, I'm sick of taking more calls than I should have to, without getting paid extra wages to pick up your slack, you milk this out any longer and you'll regret it, trust me." But if I did that, people might start calling me selfish or crazy and we all know that's simply not true.
Thanks to my being in attendence, the UWM men's basketball squad crushed Youngstown State last night bringing their overall record for games Andy is at to 3-o. UWM had a forty point lead with about ten minutes remaining in the game and the last starter wasn't taken out until around the five minute mark. The head coaches exchange after the game lasted for less than half a second thanks to UWM playing the, let's try to get every player on our team a basket and run our score up to a hundred, in the process, mocking our opponent (who was basically all but defeated by halftime) every step of the way, game. It was fun to watch. Speaking of fun to watch, we were seated in the same section as the women's soccer team and a blonde little number was giving me the, "Who is this guy?" look, which also looks a lot like the "I'd like me some of that" look. I didn't know she or any of the twenty some girls in her section were on the team until they all simultaneously left to head to courtside to get introduced during a timeout. This girl never returned, but I'm pretty sure she digs me. I looked her up on the UWM athletic site today, so I know her name and e-mail address. What should I do about this? And am I a psycho? Please disregard the whole banana, cereal alignment, and greeting card issues before casting judgement.
As soon as my roommate and I exited the doors of the US Cellular Arena, we were approached by a guy handing out flyers. I don't know what about, but before he could explain I shouted out, "I don't know how to read!" We then both sprinted in the opposite direction giggling like school boys. We sure showed that guy what end was up. Please disregard this occurrence while making a decision on whether or not I am a psycho.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Draft #56
Enough of the Tom Foolery, it's time for a little Chuck Woolery! It's time to look back on some of the best bachelor introductions from the popular 80's dating television program, the Love Connection. But before we do, here's a little information to help you get updated on what Chuck has been doing:
Here's Chuck:
-he's a born again Christian
-has his own line of motorized fishing lures
-has been married three times and has eight children
-enjoys playing Poker for charity
-and says being a game show host for over thirty years is starting to get old
Can you picture Chuck sitting in that plush couch with the eager bachlorette? Then the screen flashing to the still frame of the next bachelor as Chuck rattles off his short bio of information? Well this is how I remember the show. So here's some sample bio's:
Here's Steve:
-he's currently unemployed
-holds numerous recreation league basketball records
-claims to have eaten a 55 oz steak
-enjoys cruising the strip in his hometown of Newburg
-and says there isn't anybody that can stop him when he's in the zone
Here's Bob:
-he works as an independant contractor
-never kisses on the first date
-once received Bee Arthur's autograph at a Golden Girls convention
-enjoys having political conversations
-and says if he ever meets the right girl, he promises to squeeze her fresh orange juice every morning
Here's Derrick:
-he's a camp instructor
-has a colorful canoe collection
-has fallen victim to poison ivey on more than one occasion
-enjoys watching Leave it to Beaver marathons
-and says there isn't anything he can't do with a ball of yawn
Here's Martin:
-he ain't nobodies bitch
-is proud of his dragon tattoo
-has spent time in the local penitentiary for a crime he didn't commit
-enjoys hustling suckers and lifting weights
-and says one day, he's gunna getch ya
Here's Levi:
-he's a certified public account
-owns two yachts
-has been accused of penny pinching
-enjoys completing tax returns
-and says women frighten him more than the Boogie man and government audits combined
Here's Raul:
-he works in the lawncare industry
-gets excited around peen-yatas
-has great hand-eye coordination
-enjoys a homemade tor-teela
-and says his mother makes the best ones
Here's Chipper:
-he works as a hair designer at the local beauty salon
-has over 22 pairs of shoes
-doesn't kiss and tell............often
-enjoys popsicles
-and says he's seen the movie Brokeback Mountain at least nineteen times
Here's Barry:
-he works in his local grocer's freezer department as a stock boy
-he's 43 years old and twice divorced to the same woman
-has had bad luck in relationships
-enjoys eating Good Humor ice cream treats
-and says his band, the Dudley Quartet, is the tops
Here's Arthur:
-he's retired
-has an overactive bladder
-served as his town supervisor in 1977, 78, and again in 85.
-enjoys any day that his hemroids don't flare up
-and says most women would describe him as electric
Here's Jerry:
-he's a farmer by trade
-owns a John Deer tractor
-trys not to get too attached to the pigs he raises
-enjoys Sunday morning breakfast's cooked by his wife Marla
-and says he's on the show today to find a good woman for his son, Jerry Jr.
Here's Tom:
-He's a physical education instructor
-who graduated from Stout University in only six short years
-can bench twice his body weight
-enjoys taking his frustations out on kids who don't shower after gym class by making them swim laps
-and says he could have been a great quarterback if he didn't blow his knee out during Homecoming
Here's the Brad:
-he's a used car salesman
-has been confused as a member of the Bee Gees more times than he cares to count
-he can rev your engine, whether lady or car
-enjoys making the big sale
-and says you can't boogie down, without your collar up
Here's Chuck:-he's a born again Christian
-has his own line of motorized fishing lures
-has been married three times and has eight children
-enjoys playing Poker for charity
-and says being a game show host for over thirty years is starting to get old
Can you picture Chuck sitting in that plush couch with the eager bachlorette? Then the screen flashing to the still frame of the next bachelor as Chuck rattles off his short bio of information? Well this is how I remember the show. So here's some sample bio's:
Here's Steve:
-he's currently unemployed
-holds numerous recreation league basketball records
-claims to have eaten a 55 oz steak
-enjoys cruising the strip in his hometown of Newburg
-and says there isn't anybody that can stop him when he's in the zone
Here's Bob:
-he works as an independant contractor
-never kisses on the first date
-once received Bee Arthur's autograph at a Golden Girls convention
-enjoys having political conversations
-and says if he ever meets the right girl, he promises to squeeze her fresh orange juice every morning
Here's Derrick:
-he's a camp instructor
-has a colorful canoe collection
-has fallen victim to poison ivey on more than one occasion
-enjoys watching Leave it to Beaver marathons
-and says there isn't anything he can't do with a ball of yawn
Here's Martin:
-he ain't nobodies bitch
-is proud of his dragon tattoo
-has spent time in the local penitentiary for a crime he didn't commit
-enjoys hustling suckers and lifting weights
-and says one day, he's gunna getch ya
Here's Levi:
-he's a certified public account
-owns two yachts
-has been accused of penny pinching
-enjoys completing tax returns
-and says women frighten him more than the Boogie man and government audits combined
Here's Raul:
-he works in the lawncare industry
-gets excited around peen-yatas
-has great hand-eye coordination
-enjoys a homemade tor-teela
-and says his mother makes the best ones
Here's Chipper:
-he works as a hair designer at the local beauty salon
-has over 22 pairs of shoes
-doesn't kiss and tell............often
-enjoys popsicles
-and says he's seen the movie Brokeback Mountain at least nineteen times
Here's Barry:
-he works in his local grocer's freezer department as a stock boy
-he's 43 years old and twice divorced to the same woman
-has had bad luck in relationships
-enjoys eating Good Humor ice cream treats
-and says his band, the Dudley Quartet, is the tops
Here's Arthur:
-he's retired
-has an overactive bladder
-served as his town supervisor in 1977, 78, and again in 85.
-enjoys any day that his hemroids don't flare up
-and says most women would describe him as electric
Here's Jerry:
-he's a farmer by trade
-owns a John Deer tractor
-trys not to get too attached to the pigs he raises
-enjoys Sunday morning breakfast's cooked by his wife Marla
-and says he's on the show today to find a good woman for his son, Jerry Jr.
Here's Tom:
-He's a physical education instructor
-who graduated from Stout University in only six short years
-can bench twice his body weight
-enjoys taking his frustations out on kids who don't shower after gym class by making them swim laps
-and says he could have been a great quarterback if he didn't blow his knee out during Homecoming
Here's the Brad:
-he's a used car salesman
-has been confused as a member of the Bee Gees more times than he cares to count
-he can rev your engine, whether lady or car
-enjoys making the big sale
-and says you can't boogie down, without your collar up
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Draft #55
After seeing the Burger King advertisement during the Super Bowl, I started having some flashbacks to my high school days as an employee of this fine franchise. I was especially taken back by the part of the commercial that proclaimed how Burger King is extra pleased to take special orders. I would like to set the record straight on this little motto of theirs, it's complete bull shit. But before I explain why, let's take a little trip through memory lane, Burger King style.
I was a freshman and due to after school practices my six year run as a paperboy was coming to an end. I had to find new employment, so I applied to a few local establishments but due to my limited availability I wasn't getting a lot of positive feedback. But there was one place in town that was hiring, the home of the Whopper baby. I think the interview lasted about two minutes in the dining room and went something like this from what I recall:
Manager: Have you ever been in jail?
Me: No
Manager: Would you like to work in the front or the back?
Me: The back
Manager: Did you bring your social security card?
Me: Right here
Manager: Welcome aboard. What's your pants size?
Me: A 36 comfortably, but I can fit into a 34.
Manager: Ah look, a 35.
Me: Perfect
I figured I wasn't ready for the pressure of being in the spotlight, front and center manning the register, so the kitchen seemed like a perfect fit (maybe no one will know I work here then). I started out working the grill, the absolute bottom of the totem pole. The grill is basically like what you see at Quizno's, a conveyer belt type setup where the burgers are moving across an open flame and plop out on the other end. The buns are sent through in the same fashion, just not over an open flame. Once the burgers and buns came out the other end, we would use the tongues to set the burger inbetween the buns and then set the plain burger in the steamer, to keep it warm until it was time to dress it up with the fixings.
I eventually graduated to the sandwich board where the Whoppers and other burgers were constructed. The setup was a lot like Subway, I had a long counter in front of me in which to operate with all the fixings right behind that, like a salad bar. I had a couple of microwaves on a shelf above the fixings at eye level, with the steamer to the right of me. Behind me was the deep friers and the specialty board where the non-hamburger sandwiches were made. To the left, was the chute that the final product slid down, and above the chute hanging from the ceiling, was the dreaded order screen.
This is where my hatred for special orders came in. Next time you order a sandwich from Burger King, you might notice on the wrapper, the numbers 1-12 (representing each number on a clock) with one of the numbers having a line going through it. When a sandwich is made, you have to cross off the number on the wrapper that the minute hand will be on in ten minutes (cause that's the max amount of time the burgers are supposed to be on the chute). The managers were the ones that decided how many burgers were to be on the level (the chute), depending on what time of day it was, and how busy we're supposed to be. I would usually mark the burgers for fifteen minutes because I was lazy and I didn't want to see any of my work go to waste since they threw out any burgers that weren't sold before the ten minute expiration.
So say I'm working during lunch, and on the screen I see a Whopper no pickle. I couldn't just take one of the pre-made Whoppers from the chute, open it up, and pick the pickles off. We have to start from scratch and build your ass a new Whopper. So if you want a fresh burger from Burger King, or most fast food joints, just make a slight alteration to your order because you never know how long that burger has been sitting under a heat lamp after it was made (thanks to lazy employees like myself). And that's not to mention the amount of time the burger has been sitting in the steam bath before it was even made. I can't even remember the maximum amount of time the burgers were supposed to be in the steam bin because we just let those suckers sit in there forever, we didn't care if they were soggy. What do you think this is, a Ruby Tuesdays?
And if you know of a fast food joint that has a habbit of serving stale or soggy fries, ask if you can get your fries unsalted. A) The whole place might shut down and panic. "What do you mean, you don't want salt on your fries, I'll have to ask my manager." B) They'll probably have to make a fresh batch, and you'll get your fries piping hot and extra crispy. Just ask for a few extra salt packets and they'll look at you like you were crazy, but at least your fries will be good.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Draft #54
Last weekend I was throwing around the idea of having my brother construct a device that could be used to haul a grill and a cooler over to Miller Park, something like a wagon, but bigger. My brother started asking questions like, "What the hell would you need that for?" and "If we don't have a car, then where are we going to tailgate?" After contemplating the questions, I decided to give up on the whole portable tailgate idea. That was until my ride back to Milwaukee from the WB on Sunday night, went it hit me, like an Ike Turner right cross. And right then and there the idea was born, a rickshaw designed specifically for tailgating.
As most of you are aware, I now live within walking distance of Miller Park, as of last September. I haven't had the opportunity yet to host a tailgate party, but that hasn't kept me from giving it a lot of thought. The big advantage to living so close to the stadium is the fact that you can get as shit-canned as you please, and not have to worry about driving home. But then if you want to actually tailgate at the stadium, you need a car and consequently, somebody to drive your drunk ass home. So to bridge the best of both worlds, I thought, why not build a rickshaw big enough to haul two passengers, a cooler or keg (depending on how many people are involved), a grill, a radio, and a couple of extra chairs. It would be like having the back end of the car, without having the rest of the car.
The only specifics I've thought of thus far, is that I should probably have a way of locking the wheels, so if somebody decides to take it, they'd actually have to lift the whole thing onto a truck and drive off with it. I'd also need to have a compartment under the seats to lock the radio and food/drink leftovers. Oh and the rickshaw would need some retractable table legs to keep it upright and looking like the bed of a truck during tailgating. I've thought of naming it, but the only thing I got so far is Brew Shaw. My dad and I have talked about building this contraption and he said he was going to keep his eyes pealed for any stray parts at work. Without him this wouldn't even be possible, and thankfully my father is a genious when it comes to building things, so he will definitely be a massive help.
Maybe this is all a far-fetched idea that I will lose interest in throughout the next couple of weeks, but then I think ahead to warm summer days, girls shouting their cat calls at me, "Hey, it's the rickshaw guy, wanna give us a ride? (as she's nibbling on the tip of her sunglasses)" I think of the strangers that we'll be approached by to compliment us on how cool the rickshaw is, "Where did you come up with such a neat idea, here, take the rest of our beer." I think of the ladies, too drunk to walk after the game, throwing themselves into the rickshaw as they mumble, "Take me away, Mr." "To my apartment?" I reply. "Sure, why not, I'm not wearing any underwear and you seem like a good enough time." Ok, maybe that last scenario was a bit much, but you get my drift. It will take a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to complete the mighty rickshaw and perhaps nobody I know will show a lick of interest in it. But at the very least, during the dead of winter, it's fun to look ahead, to being under the sun, taking in the smells of a barbeque, pressing a cold beer against my forehead, anticipating another Brewer victory. Oh summer, get here soon, I beg of you.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Draft #53
Weekend Review:Friday: As is the custom, I went to pick up some takeout after work since I deprive myself of such luxuries the whole week. After much deliberation, I decided to take my business to Arby's to take advantage of their two fish sandwiches for four dollars (note: The only time I go to Arby's is when they have a special, I think their combo meals currently retail at about $10.99). Much to my surprise, there wasn't a soul in the drive thru and my food was waiting for me as soon as I pulled up to the window, which makes me feel a little uneasy, since nobody could possibly make a fish samich that quickly, let alone two. Worried I may not have ordered enough grub to satisfy my man sized appetitte, I decided to make another pit stop at McDonalds before heading back home. The drive thru line was wrapped around the building but I decided to endure the wait, after all I had absolutely nothing going on that night and time was on my side. After a few minutes of the line not moving, I started to feel the pain that is mostly associated with hunger. I had to do something fast or I would soon find myself gnawing on the interior of my Honda Accord and nothing is more unattractive than having teeth marks in your seats. My stomach was urging me to grab one of the sandwiches out of the Arby's bag, but my conscience was reminding me of the shame that goes along with getting caught eating an Arby's sandwich while waiting in line to get more food at a neighboring McDonalds drive thru. But then it hit me, what could be more American than that!
Some people are over seas fighting for our country, others are scrapping through garbage bins, looking for a morsel of food to help them survive the day and then there's me, feeding my face with a fish sandwich while waiting in a drive thru line at McDonalds. The advertising people had gotten to me all week long, so I knew I was there to purchase their new spicy premium chicken sandwich. But I had a major decision to make, do I order the sandwich, fries, and coke or just get two sandwiches since I already hammered down one of my fish sandwiches before I even got to the window. This particular McDonalds has two electronic order boxes, the first of which I was under the impression that it was out of order. When I pulled up next to the first one, I heard a voice asking me "How can I help you?" Thinking I had at least another two cars to make up my mind, I completely panicked and went with the combo. But luckily for me, a minute or two passed and nothing showed up on the screen and I didn't hear the voice again to confirm my order, so I advanced over to the second order box with the slyness of a black cat crossing the street in the middle of a foggy night. With a fish sandwich riding shotgun and a newly cleaned slate, I ordered the two chicken sandwiches with the pride of a billion Americans.
I went home and completely demolished the three sandwiches and hung my head in shame for what I had just done. Wallowing in self disgust, I decided to wash the meal down with three vodka tonics and two rum n'cokes throughout the duration of my viewing of the major motion picture, the Notebook. By the end of the movie I was convinced I will die a lonely man. Holy crap, did I just admit to voluntarily watching the Notebook? Oh, I'm gonna catch bloody hell for this one. Oh big deal, you think you're better than me? Oh of course you don't drink alone, you're so sophisticated with your "friends" and your "social gatherings". I can't even remember what I did the rest of the evening, alls I remember is giggling a lot when my roommate came home and I think he could tell I was drunk, the jig was up at that point.
Saturday: Woke up, never left the apartment for the entire day, went to sleep. Thought taking a shower might have been necessary since it was a Saturday and all, turns out it wasn't. I showered for no apparent reason! Talk about your monumental wastes of time. Somebody that day probably discovered the formula for an antidote to some debilitating disease and the only thing I took away from Saturday is that I hate the look that old ladies get when they win a round of Bingo. I can't stand it when old women win at Bingo. They're so smug about it! It's a game of chance, you didn't do anything special Ethel, so stop waving your arms around like you're some sort of big hero.
Sunday: Went to church with my sister, hung out, watched the Super Bowl, noticed Joe Montana was unavailable to participate in the past Super Bowl MVP's introduction ceremony before the game. Where were you Joe? You're too good for this? Phil Simms was there, where were you? That's the last time I purchase anything from the McCormick Grill Mates collection, you miserable bastard. He was probably still up in his room masterbating (old SNL joke). And as mad as I was that Montana wasn't there, I was equally steamed that Tom Brady had anything to do with the coin toss. Why was he the honorary anything? He's still in the league, and the last time I checked he was supposed to be having some sort of hernia surgery. He should be at home, beating himself up for not leading his team to the Super Bowl, shouldn't he? That wasn't very classy of you Tom Brady, not at all. The Super Bowl wasn't being played in Foxboro, it was in Detroit and I'm glad they boo-ed your ass, nobody outside of New England gives a rats ass about you. It was like watching the Patrick Swayze/Chris Farley skit on SNL when they were trying out for the last Chip n Dale's spot. The committee had already selected Swayze, but Farley was still trying to show off a couple of last second moves to sway the hiring committee into changing their minds. That's the kind of denile Tom Brady was displaying by being at the Super Bowl. "Hey everybody, remember me, I'm Tom Brady. When you think of Super Bowls, think of Tom Brady." No Tom, no, you're not in the Super Bowl this year, we decided to go with a couple of different teams this year. You were eliminated weeks ago. Yeah, it was kinda like that. I'm submitting this analogy to Bill Simmons mailbag.
This week in basketball:
Monday: Bucks @ Cavs
Tuesday: n/a
Wednesday: UW vs. Indiana/ Bucks vs. Magic
Thursday: UWM vs. Youngstown St.
Friday: n/a
Saturday: UWM @ Cleveland St. / UW @ Penn St./ Bucks vs. Bobcats
Sunday: Marquette @ Rutgers/ Bucks @ Nets
Friday, February 03, 2006
Draft #52
Today is about laying down all the many reasons that the Steelers will win Super Bowl 40, and none of them have anything to do with a statistical analysis or Jerome Bettis.If there were such a thing as "football gods", I'm pretty sure they wouldn't do something as evil as allowing my home teams former coach, Mike Holmgren and former backup quarterback, Matt Hasselbeck, to win a Super Bowl, especially in a season in which the Packers resembled a Pop Warner team comprised of a band of disinterested third graders. That would be just too cruel.
Speaking of coaches, who would you rather see win a Super Bowl? The ever boring Mike Holmgren or the tough as nails, snarling, ya-hooing, rah rah, fist pumping Bill Cowher? Personally, I'd like to see Bill and his mustache win one finally, and he seems like a nice enough guy, so yeah. Plus when it comes to the post game celebration, who would be more fun to watch? Mike Holmgren walking slowly to midfield with a shit-eating grin on his face, or Bill Cowher racing to midfield will a boyish exuberance, having already shotgunned two beers? Cowher might actually grab one of the yardage markers and ride it around the field like a horse, taking momentary breaks to bust out his imaginary six shooters to let everyone know that Cowher is a cowboy. Or....he'll just sob like a baby with his wife and daughters, either way, it will be more emotional than whatever Holmgren would do. Mike would probably start jotting down a few new ideas for the rules committee, "Note to self, make it illegal for opposing quarterbacks to wear glove on throwing hand when playing indoors."
In my opinion, the Steeler's jerseys are one of the snazziest in all of football. Any franchise that is willing to stick their neck out and say, "Yeah, we only need our logo on one side of our helmet" are winners in my book. The Seahawks have a tendency to wear their dark home jersey along with their dark pants, and that's just tacky. This phenomenon started picking up steam around six or seven years ago and I don't like it one bit. I can let it slide when it comes to wearing white jerseys with white pants, but I'm not comfortable doing it. So keep your eyes pealed come Sunday, if the Seahawks are wearing dark with dark, they will lose by at least five touchdowns, guaranteed. And what the hell is a Seahawk anyway? I know what steel is, it's hard and if dropped on my head from a relatively high point, it will kill me or at the very least give me a mother of a headache and quite possibly lead me to a life of being spoon fed by a large women with four chins. That's something I fear, but a Seahawk? How am I supposed to react when encountering such a creature? Should I run as if my life is depending on it, or should I stand and admire it for awhile? Advantage, Pittsburgh.
Another problem I have with Seattle is that I still look at them as being more of an AFC team. I'm not sure I can deal with having two AFC teams playing in the Super Bowl, my internal processor can't compute this all yet, so Pittsburgh being the elder statesmen of the AFC, will win by default, naturally. The Seahawks shouldn't be allowed in another Super Bowl for at least twenty years, this would give them plenty of time to rub off any affiliation they previously had with the AFC, and hopefully by that time my processor will be updated and void of any recollection of Seattle's prior conference habitation. Here's something to chew on, would the Seahawks have done anything special this year if they were still in the AFC West? My sources say no! I still think of Seattle as being one of the league's doormats and hopefully this weekend's crushing defeat at the hands of the Steelers will be the first step of their journey back to the bottom of the pile.
Since the game is being played in Detroit, the Steeler fans don't have very far to travel and I trust they will arrive in absolute hoards with bellies full of Yuengling and Iron City light, wearing hardhats and waving their terrible towels. Seattle, being on the other side of the planet, makes for a very lengthy road trip so I would assume most of them will pass on making any travel arrangements. And even if some of the Seahawk's fans actually make the journy, what kind of fire will they be bringing with them. It's always raining in Seattle, so they'll probably show up depressed and full from cramming too many lattes down their pieholes. This isn't even fair, they might as well just play this one at Heinz Field. Plus on a side note, the Seahawk's fans will have all the air taken out of their tires on Seattle's very first offensive possession of the game when a blitzing Troy Polamalu clotheslines Hasselbeck's head clean off his body with Joey Porter right behind him to punt the still spinning skull into the stands. That would be a rough start to recover from. Advantage, Pittsburgh.
And finally, the big reason I hope Seattle loses and loses big is because of Shaun Alexander. First off, he stole the MVP award from its rightful owner, Peyton Manning (Peyton is one of my favorite players, so I'm still bitter, and never mind the fact that Pittsburgh was the team that knocked Peyton out of the playoffs, I'm well aware of that). Secondly, I just don't think he's that good, and I know the numbers say otherwise but he just doesn't look the part. He seems like he should be slow and clunky and he looks nothing like your prototypical running back, and I hope this will be the stage in which he will be exposed for being nothing more than a poor man's Stephen Davis who happened to be in a contract year. If this sack of crap gains more than fifty yards I would be completely shocked.
Final Outcome: Steelers 55 Seahawks 13 (Jerramy Stevens scores Seattle's lone touchdown and Joey Porter becomes impressed that a guy from the punt team could actually do something like that)
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Draft #51
One of my fondest memories as a child growing up in West Bend, Wisconsin was flagging down police cars during the summertime in hopes of receiving some free Brewers baseball cards. These trading cards were unlike normal baseball cards in many ways. First off, these cards were a promotional item the Brewers gave away on a select date during the season, if you were a fan that was thirteen years old or younger, and you attended that particular game, you were probably given the entire team set. Unfortunately, unlike real baseballs cards, these trading cards were absolutely worthless. They were almost twice as big as normal cards and bended twice as easily. And while regular baseball cards had statistics on the back, the police issued cards had advice for kids on the back warning us against the dangers of drugs and violating particular traffic codes. Now if you were lucky to flag down an officer and he had enough cards on hand, he would usually give you 2-4 cards depending on how nice the guy was or how eager they were to get rid of their stash. I can still picture the officer thumbing through his massive pile of cards, carefully selecting each one to make sure that I wouldn't get any duplicates. After all, you don't want to send a kid home crying because you gave him two Charlie O' Brien's.
Perhaps these profound messages on the back of the cards is what kept me on the straight and narrow all these years, but I highly doubt it. I can't remember what the messages were like but I know most of them had a Hulkster type tone to them. "Say your prayers, take your vitamins, work real hard, yadda, yadda, yadda." So today I thought I would put together some bits of advice that I think the current Brewers might give out to youngsters if the old police cards were put back into circulation this season.
Ben Sheets says:
As a kid growing up I had a lot of older people telling me that I shouldn't throw a curveball because I was too young and that my muscles weren't developed yet. Do you know what I told those people? I'd say, "Look buddy, if I'm going to pitch in the majors someday, I've got to have a nasty curveball. Show me a pitcher in the Bigs right now who's throwing nothing but fastballs and I'll show you a guy who's about to be unemployed really damn soon. So do me a favor and mind your own damn business old man!" Now I don't know what that guy is up to these days, but I'm pretty sure he didn't make six million dollars last season cleaning toilets, that's for damn sure. Do you know how many happy meals you can buy with six million dollars? I don't know either, but I'm pretty sure it's a shit load.Brady Clark says:
Believe it or not, as a kid I had a lovely head of hair. It was so thick and lush that people would actually compliment me on my curly mop. But sometime around the eleventh grade I started losing all my hair, lock by golden brown lock. For awhile I didn't know what to do about it, I just sulked and became a very bitter person. So kids, if you ever grow up to find out that you are losing your hair, just remember this. Since I was balding in high school already, I looked like I was about 27 years old, and consequently I became the most popular kid in my class. And while purchasing alcohol for minors is illegal, it will however, make you cool. And who doesn't want to be cool?Geoff Jenkins says:
You'd probably be surprised to find out that since 1998 I've hit more than 30 home runs in a single season only once. And in that same time I've batted over .300 twice, never driven in a 100 runs in a season, scored a 100 runs in a season once, and I've never played an entire season. Yet surprisingly, I make almost as much money as Vladmir Guerrero, go figure? Remember kids, never underestimate the power of a weak free agent market, it just may be your ticket to the big time. I'm so rich I don't have to brush my teeth anymore! Oh and don't chew tobacco, that stuff is bad for you.
Prince Fielder says:
Growing up as the son of a Major League Baseball player wasn't as glamorous as you think it'd be. Dad would always let me on the field to shag flyballs and even let me take some batting practice if time allowed. I'd have to go down into the locker room and rub elbows with the players before the game and then sit in expensive club level seating during the game, downing all the nachos and footlongs a kid could handle. Then after the game, dad would drive us back to our mansion in the new foreign sports car he had just purchased, and now that I think of it, being the son of Cecil Fielder was pretty cool. So kids, if at all possible, try to have a father that plays Major League Baseball, you'll be glad he did.
Getting hit by a pitch is never any fun especially in the majors when the pitches are being hurled towards you at over 90 mph. But in little league, sometimes leaning into a stray curveball is your only choice. Not every kid can sock one over the fence at will and in most cases you're probably the kid that chews on his glove while kicking dandelions in right field. So next time you're at the plate in a tight situation, do us all a favor and don't blow it for once, take one for the team. I know it hurts, but it only stings for a little bit. Stop being a pansy and try acting like a man for a change. Remember kids, you only get so many chances to be in the spotlight, so don't miss YOUR time to shine.
