Musical Musings… Some Lame Lame Songs

My cousin Steve sent me an email a while back in which he told me to watch a certain video.  He didn’t provide any context, or drinking game rules.  It was Joe Nichols’ If Nobody Believed In You.  Check it out for yourself:

So as I watched, I wondered what my cousin was trying to showcase.  The creepy guy watching a kid’s ballgame all alone?  The creepy guy staring down a downtrodden old man?  Was Heath Ledger pulling off a Tupac/Makaveli life-after-death reinvention?

Then I realized what he was trying to tell me – this song and video were lame.

A few other songs have popped back into my life lately that are just as – if not more – lame.  And I listen to a bunch of lame music as it is.  But instead of the sappy and maudlin I’d usually reserve for the designation lame, these are sort of well-written sappy and maudlin lame songs.

  • Soul Asylum – Misery

For some reason, my boss/friend Paul started singing this around the office, and dammit if it didn’t get stuck in my head.  He does this to me often since I’m very susceptible to earworms.  But this song is flat-out awful, despite lyrics like this:

They say misery
Loves company
We could start a company
And make misery

  • Heart – All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You

This I heard on the way to school.  (Yes, I’m back in school continuing education.)  I knew it better than I cared to remember.  Sample lyrics belted quite believably by Ann Wilson:

I said, here is the flower, here is the seed
We walked in the garden, we planted a tree
Now, don’t try to find me, please don’t you dare
Just live in my memory, you’ll always be there

  • Debby Boone – You Light Up My Life

This seems like an easy one to pick on, but it was just featured in an episode of Raising Hope.  This is probably the queen of lame songs, and the list could go on and on from everything that followed this light-ning rod of goody-two-shoes-ness (as opposed to goody-three-shoes?)…

You know the lyrics:


Drunken Recollection… Why Men Do Anything (Plus Swamping!)

While camping last weekend, this happened:

Why is the song "Lump" suddenly stuck in my head?

That is my cousin Steve, whom most recently discovered this for me, or should I say us.  He put on his waders and decided to go swamping, which in other words means…

Hunting for frogs.

Passersby were confused at us boggy marsh gawkers, until they realized we were watching Steve mucking through the muck.  Every last one of them smiled.  Only one of them rubbed my shoulders.

In other Drunken Recollecting, while around the campfire, I proposed that there are only three reasons men do anything in this world (in no particular order):

Oh, and there is the unofficial fourth reason – survival.

So the question that remains – why did Steve go swamping?

I already told you it was to hunt for frogs!

JusWondering… Can I Jam Pack Many Halloween Posts In One Post? Yes.

Happy Find… Man Up Your Girly Boy This Halloween

Courtesy of the Onion News Network comes this gem.  What I like best is the part where they’re mean to the kids…


In My Brain While Sleeping… A Costume I Never Would Have Thought Of While Awake

Blah blah blah subconscious something something weird dream… I met a man wearing this costume and when I inquired about it, he pulled granite from his pocket, placed it on the last stair and said:



"I'm Rock Bottom."


Drunken Recollection… Two Gorillas Are Better Than One

My cousin Steve and I have matching costumes.  We debuted them last week at my brother’s party.  It was a blast.  The next day, I had another party to attend, but I opted to go as Hipster Jesus.  Another gorilla was there, and my heart broke a little…


Musical Musings…  How Do You Kill The Gill Man?

Is this a good song? No.  But does the Monster Mash really deserve being the only Halloween song? (Not counting Werewolf Bar Mitzvah, of course.)

(Lyrics available after the jump)


Awful Battle… Worst Halloween Costumes

Take your pick of this litter.  And by litter, I mean trash.  Not like litter of puppies or litter of kittens.  (BTW, they all win the Awful Battle.


InASense, Lost… This Sex Toy Bites

Ever hear of the Fleshlight?  Well here’s the Succu-Dry.  And it blows.



Do Not Vant


Coinkydink Or Coinkydonk? Did PB Max Get “Discontinued” For Peanut Butter Twix?



PB Max... PB Twix... hmm...

I loved PB Max almost instantly when it was released in 1990.  It was the companion candy to the caramel Twix bars I’d eat everyday.  (There was a 5¢ mail-in rebate deal on each wrapper, so I binged one summer, sent them all in, and received a $5 check 6-8 weeks later.  You can do the math.)

Anysweettooth, seemingly as quickly as the candy burst on the scene, by th mid-90’s, it was gone.  A couple more years passed and all-of-the-sudden there was a Peanut Butter Twix bar (and the original became Caramel Twix with a capital-C, as you candy C see).

There were claims that the PB Max didn’t make it because the Mars family hated peanut butter.  But lo and behold, they eventually made and continue to make the spin-off to their double-cookie-bar-covered-in-something-coated-in-chocolate classic.


Hibbidy-Wah?! What’s Wrong With This Kid?


The Shit To Just Shitty… The Adventure Of It All

Whatever happened to all the razor blades in apples and the kidnappings?  The night’s supposed to be scary for kids.  It’s like a PG-13 horror film these days.


Worth 1002 Words… My Old Halloween Costume Edition



Boxing Match


(lyrics to Halloween Survival Guide, you know, in case your ears aren’t working)

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Drunken Recollection… The Empire Snuggies Back

In the middle of the night, a strange cough – that sounded distinctly male – startled me awake.  I was passed out in a queen-size bed with my cousin Steve.  We were in a hotel in New York City recovering from a long day of travelling and a longer night of drinking. 

…And we were each wearing a Snuggie.



The pub crawl on which the trip was focused was starting at noon.  It was ten when we started moving.  Steve kept mentioning how well he felt; I kept quiet about how much I was not.  We had set our sights on getting back to East Village by noon, but our first mission was to stop at the store to buy a vital item.

Steve called them safety pins; I referred to them as diaper pins.  Steve thought we could find them at Staples; I thought that was funny.  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if they were still made.  Was there a need for diaper pins anymore?  (Safety pins?  Maybe.)  And why did we need them?  We each had grown fond of our Snuggies and didn’t want to ruin them.  (Oh, and we ended up finding some at Walgreen’s.  They weren’t by the baby supplies, but amazingly, condoms were.  Hmm.)

We had a plan to carry the three Snuggies we possessed in a backpack, and to don them as required (the third was Mike’s – another friend that was coming in from DC for his birthday).  It was New York though, and we probably could have worn them the entire way from Midtown, but… well, I don’t have a clever excuse.  I guess we weren’t 100% convinced the Snuggie Pub Crawl was real, and didn’t want to be left out in the cold heat (it was such a nice day… 70+ degrees).

Our first stop was the sign-up location.  We had purchased four tickets in advance (even though we thought it might not be real we used credit card information on the web… go figure), and on the train ride over, Steve verified the first bar stop on those four tickets.  When we arrived at the sign-up, Steve checked his pockets.

“I have some bad news.”  Apparently, somewhere between checking them on the subway and walking to this bar, the printed up sheets fell out and blew away.  We weighed our options.  We thought of alternatives.  They guy told us we needed tickets, and we didn’t want to have to purchase them again.  Luckily, he accepted viewing the receipts on my iPhone, gave us four tickets and four cups (Tim from Episode IV would be also joining us), and we arrived at our first official spot:

Bar None: The Fun Begins

Bar None: The Fun Begins

Now properly attired in our blankets with sleeves and with full crew in tow, the drinking began.  The three of them were off in a mad dash, but I was limping.  Mike put it best:

The days that start off slow very often end in a hurry.

Now I’ll let some pictures do the talking.


Needless to say – some drinks were poured, some drinks were spilled, some conversation was had, and the Yankees got blown out by the Indians!  All-in-all, the crawl was a success.  But the night was not yet finished…


Over the course of the day, I had received information about a secret place.  The specifications were these:

  • It was a hot dog joint in Manhattan.
  • This hot dog joint had a “secret bar” located within it.
  • To access this “secret bar” you had to enter a phone booth and pick up the receiver to enter.
  • The location I was texted stated: 113 St Marks Pl

Here’s where my hubris caused an issue (and maybe drinking… maybe).  I thought I understood the lay the island, and I took the location to mean “113 St. @ Marks Place”… not what it said.  And the little torn brochure map I carried with me cut off around 110 St. at the the top, so how could I be wrong?  Birthday boy Mike passed out at Tim’s place (near East Village), and Steve, Tim, and I made our drunken way out to the fictional 113 St. and Marks Place.

The taxi driver didn’t even correct us, and brought us to 113 St. and Broadway, way up on the west end.  As I approached the waterfront, I stumbled into a closing bakery.

“Excuse me, do you know where Marks Place is?”

The confused baker answered, “He probably lives down by the river.”

As we brewed and stewed and reviewed my mistake, something caught my eye down the road.  It wasn’t a wasted trip after all!  This is where we had a late night burger before returning to home base (to pass out in our dirty Snuggies in a queen-size bed):


"Doo doo doo doo, doo doo-doo-doo..." - Suzanne Vega / "Tippy toes, tippy toes, tippy toes!" - George Costanza

Drunken Recollection… The Saga Of New York

Holy Magnolia cupcakes… New York City rocks!  In preparing to tackle the monumental amount of momentous situations that occurred over my weekend in the Big Apple, I thought, “What would be the nerdiest way to unfold such adventures?”

As if it was the Star Wars saga!  (I’m not sure if I’ll do the prequels… I’ll probably do the prequels…)


As we arrived in Newark, NJ (that we being cousin Steve and I), we parked our car in a 24 hour lot, stored our ticket to retrieve said vehicle, and noted that we needed gasoline prior to our journey home.

Realizing we had no idea exactly how we were getting to NYC via the train system (each for our various reasons), we flew by the seat of our pants, as we’re prone to do, and which usually tends to be more expensive.

We walked up some train tracks to find a NJ Transit machine, and luckily, a woman offered to help us the entire way through the process.  She almost missed her train, which ended up being our train as well.  Guilt-free help!

May not be inspiring to the locals, but to a guy from Detroit: "This city is alive!"

May not be inspiring to the locals, but to a guy from Detroit: "It's alive!"

Upon arriving at Penn Station (we thought we were heading to the WTC station – we were way off!), I witnessed a monk wearing a baseball hat and an old man in a super pimped-out Little Rascal cart.  We reached surface level and my first view was this:

We had attained some sizable pamphlets from underground, and after ripping away all the advertisements, we had all the map that we’d need.  We pinned down our location (Madison Square Garden), and our hotel’s location, and we got moving.

On the way, the saw Fuse Network Studios, the Sbarro restaurant that I thought Michael Scott on The Office referred to as “authentic New York cuisine,” and a comic shop that had a Silver Surfer in its window.  (We stopped inside because of this, but not much else was going on.  This is obviously why they have a Silver Surfer in the window.)

"Look up for power lines." "But I don't see anything." "That's good." (Detroiter inside joke)

"Look up for power lines." "But I don't see anything." "That's good." (Detroiter inside joke)

Then I had a chance to take this photo up above.  When I take things like this, I hope to impress my sis that’s a photog.  Eees good, Becks?  (Too bad she doesn’t read this blog.)

I think it's so the pigeons can be comfortable.

I think it's so the pigeons can be comfortable.

At my hotel, we had a nice view of the back of buildings, which I still thought was cool.  For some reason, there were a bunch of pillows, down below. 

Anyhotelincidentals, I have to put the brakes on this post.  To quickly wrap up the rest, we walked from our hotel to 30 Rock because of the show (the skating rink is not as big in person).  We hit up Broadway and Times Square, and figured out how to take the subway down to the World Trade Center reconstruction.  The Statue of Liberty was visible in the distance (has anyone realized her initials are SOL?), and I think we found the area that Will Smith rented jet skis in Hitch (over in the financial district).

Okay, there’s more to come for sure.  Stay tuned!  (I’m losing my TripleDoubleU connection shortly hence the wrap up… EPISODE IV is not finished.)

Drunken Recollection… When Someone Offers You A Free Piano, You Take It!

I was watching the first episode of “How I Met Your Mother” and there’s a scene where Robin (Cobie Smulders) quotes (what they consider) an obscure line from “Ghostbusters.”

The line, courtesy of Winston Zeddemore (Ernie Hudson):

Ray, when someone asks you if you’re a god, you say “YES”!

For whatever reason, it caused a flash in my brain pan of a conversation I had with my cousin Steve last night.  He was telling me about a Craigslist entry he read.  In it, someone was giving away an upright piano for free.  The catch: you had to come pick it up.  I asked why he hadn’t contacted the sellergiver-awayer and he said he had no place to put it, being stuck (for the mean time) back at home.  My response:

Steve, when someone offers you a free piano, you take it!

It could have waited in the garage.  It didn’t need to even be playable.  He has an old NBA Jam coin-op arcade system in the living room.  The upright piano could go right next to that.

In other words... jam band.

They go together like pianos and coin-op.

And this is one situation where I practice what I preach.  When I had the chance to get a free microfiche machine, I took it!


Just in case a dying man hands me microfilm and tells me, "Don't let them find this," I can see what "this" is.

Drunken Recollection… Late Night Repo’s Are Buzzkills

The weekend was a jam-packed one, and it didn’t leave me much time for any kind of self-reflection and intellectual introspection that I usually reserve for this blog.  (Yeah, right.)  Let me rewind the events of the weekend to get to Friday, a random night where not much happened other than random things…

vvrp verp Car dealership, free car battery under warranty during oil change vrip vrap Work day spent finishing weekend work vrrp vvip Trivia comeback to no win during NHL All-Star game where there were no Red Wings plus Pistons barely lose to Rockets vvvp Ate out at Chili’s vvvp Visited Grams vvvp Met up old friends Saturday night vvvp After working vvvp After nursing hangover… click clackCLUNK

Okay, rewinding was about as exciting as the Twitter experiment (again, yeah right)… Basically, on Friday, my brother was working in a speakeasy, so to speak.  It was an interactive play that took place during the 20’s, that acted as a fundraiser for a local theatre troop.  I passed the goons guarding the door using the password that not many guessed.


Goon: “What’s the password?”

Me: “What.”

Goon: “You may enter.”

My other family members worked the open bar so in my double-fisting of rum and cokes, the ratio of everything went like this:


In turn, this lead to me achieving a sufficient level of what I call “Wedding Drunk” (it’s a different form of “Superhero Drunk” and fodder for a future post).  As the festivities wound down, the group I was with headed to a local hole-in-the-wall bar, where I proceded to karaoke a Weezer song after my cousin Steve ignited the party with his rendition of “Sweet Caroline” (also fodder for another post).

My brother was absent from this collection of the acting troupe, and our rides were kicked out for being trashed (well, at least Richie was the one deemed smashed out of the Venessa and Jess Trifecta).  Steve and I were left behind with the Actors! and someone else offered to drive us to an afterparty once the bar started closing.

(SIDE STORY: Steve had spotted one woman earlier in the night that made him proclaim – “She will be flashing her breasts at some point tonight.”  He was right.  The things you learn while away at college.)

To be honest, I have never seen such a magnificent driver as Kate, a.k.a. She who drove Steve and I elsewhere.  While searching for Toto’s Africa and Asia’s Heat of the Moment on her Zune, her path never waivered – not one bit.  We were going to drive to her house to pick up her dog, but we kept driving around through a subdivision and eventually ended up at the final destination.  We wondered why we didn’t stop and get the dog.  Kate’s answer:

My boyfriend was there.

Around 3am, the repo man showed up and took our gracious host’s truck.  Major buzzkill.  We called for a taxi.  (They hung up on us repeatedly while we were trying to figure out where we were.)  We parted ways with the Actors! around 4am.  I b.s.’d with the bald driver of the Chrysler 300 about life, politics, the universe, and religion, and ate macaroni and cheese once back at the Trifecta’s homebase.

In closing… Viva la Wedding Drunk!  Boo-Hiss Repo Men!

Drunken Recollection… Things Learned Over Thanksgiving Weekend

Thanksgiving weekend has come and gone, as has all the turkey (et. al.) through me.  With this in mind, I shall impart onto you the various things that I learned over the past four days.

1) There is something called The Amazing Plant Lamp.  As the website proclaims:

The only lamp of its kind where you quickly touch the live plant to turn it on and off or hold a leaf and it works as a dimmer.

Ain’t that the bees knees!  Just stick the Amazing Plant Lamp kit in any plant and voila!

2) Raisins are forcibly put into too many things, like cinnamon bread and puddings.  I usually don’t eat any of these foods anyway, but I can relate because of how common it is for bakers to put nuts in fudge brownies (that could be taken out of context)!  Enough!  I want choices!

(SIDE NOTE: I used to like Fig Newtons as a kid because I thought it was some kind of weird tasting chocolate.  Then I learned and thus hated them.)

3) Chocotinis have zero alcohol content, despite what anyone else might claim.  My sister was pulled over for having non-working turn signals.  She was nervous and forgot her alphabet.  The cop made her do the random balance tests and the such, then he gave her a Breathalyzer test.  She blew zero.  Case closed!

4) You can break the bottom off a beer bottle with water and a hand slap.  Basically, take an empty bottle (in this case, it was Coors Light), fill it halfway with water, hold the neck in one hand, and slam the palm of your other hand on the bottle’s mouth.  The bottom drops out from the instant air pressure, I guess.  Apparently, beer has more shock absorption.

5) My cousin Steve might be a diabolical genius.  In discussing the biggest insults one man could make against another (backhanding was #3… spitting in face was #2… we didn’t go beyond what’s to follow), he declared the greatest coup, the most humiliating attack, the most degrading defeat, the biggest insult to be ever perpetrated in the world would be this – to tickle a man in front of his family.  Right in front of his wife, his children, and his dog.  Tickled to the point of tears and uncontrollable laughter.  It’s guaranteed that after the giggles were through, he’d pack up his things and walk out the door, not saying a word, not making any eye contact, swearing to himself to never return again, and all this would be understood.  Out of humiliation he’d still support the family, though thousands of miles away.  And his family could become your family.

6) As a kid, I watched WXYZ Channel 7 way more than I realized, because they had a special on about their past 60 years, and I got choked up.  Stupid nostalgia…

7) I would put that the Detroit Lions suck, but I already knew that.