Drunken Recollection

Drunken Recollection…The Mysteries Of Mexico

Posted on by sgottahurt

While on vacation a couple weeks ago in Mehico, I picked up a few things other than the Spanish language (and The Clap… you all know The Clap… it goes with this song:

and… end parenthetical).

Anyquién, I also decided I loathe the above remake, but that’s neither here nor there.  Well, it was there, at the resort, where my dislike upgraded to loathe because they played it every day at the pool.  Now onto the mysteries!

MYSTERY 1) A fair amount of time ago, a friend was telling me about a documentary he watched on Animal Planet or Discovery that was about “cutie fish.”  He told me about how they are amongst the smartest invertebrates, and about their survival methods.  Interesting, thought I, and I preceded to look them up… and found nothing.

In Mexico, some friends went snorkeling and mentioned that they saw “cuttlefish.”  Which look like this:

cuttlefish

Neither a fish, nor cute.

And match the description given by my friend in regard to “cutie fish.”

MYSTERY – SOLVED!

MYSTERY 2) In my relaxing vacational TV viewing, I stumbled across a cartoon featuring a bunch of eggs that were battling, while some eggs were tied to a roller coaster track.  One of them was friends with a strip of bacon, and one guy looked like this:

eggdude

(Not So) Artistic Representation

It didn’t help that it was in Spanish, but I’ve not been able to find anything like it on Google image search.

BONUS MYSTERY: There was some CGI black and white movie that was in English, and it had a fairly intense shower sex scene.  The main character’s name was Don Hudson, and he was being hunted by people the woman he just slept showered with called.  There were reed accents throughout.  Google search?  Nada.

MYSTERIES – UNSOLVED

MYSTERY 3) In other TV viewing, there was some crappy Danny DeVito movie (I found out was entitled, Other People’s Money), and his character’s name was Larry Garfield.  Now that’s not much on its own (although it was weird I had just watched Stand and Deliver and the school it took place at was also named Garfield High School), but after watching Shoot ‘Em Up, I theorized Odie meant “hate.”

Got home and Babel Fished it:

odietranslation

Boo-yah!  Mystery solved!  But a newer mystery remained.  Did Garfield creator Jim Davis name his yellow dog this because his feline star hated him?

Apparently, no:

Odie was based on a car dealership commercial written by Jim Davis, which featured Odie the Village Idiot.  Davis liked the name Odie and decided to use it again.

MYSTERIES – (UNSATISFACTORILY) SOLVED!

MYSTERY 4) Um, Boston Legal was called Justicia Ciega.  What did it translate to?  I figured justicia = legal, but what did ciega mean?  Well on another show or movie (I don’t recall which one), a car accident almost occurred and a woman screamed, “What are you, blind?”  Ciega flashed on the bottom.  Boston Legal = Justicia Ciega = Blind Justice.

MYSTERY – SOLVED!

MYSTERY 5) Why did I spend so much time watching TV?

MYSTERY – UNSOLVED…

Pre-Drunken Recollection… Strange Things Are Afoot At Target

Posted on by sgottahurt

"You had me at logo"

"You had me at logo"

On a mission to get some essentials post-soccer and pre-impromptu bar session, I stopped into the Target I used to work at AKA the Center of My Universe.  Here’s a breakdown of all things odd that occurred in a very short visit:

  • Being adorned in leftover soccer attire, I entered the store and found a young lady that appeared to be wearing full soccer attire.  I witnessed a too tight yellow t-shirt, way too small black biker shorts, and sock covered shin guards black faux leather boots to her knees.  Her mother was with her and didn’t stop her from leaving the house.  This was just the beginning.
  • I ran into my cousins’ aunt and uncle and they warned me about someone they had passed that I was about to run into.  I won’t spoil the upcoming surprise, but I warned them of The Boots.
  • Yes, the man did look like he was wearing underwear as pants.  Gray boxer-briefs, more specifically.
  • Moving forward, I saw one of my friends helping an old lady in one of the aisles, but she didn’t see me.  I proceeded to linger at the end cap, banging things on the shelf intermittently, doing the same in the next aisle.  No response.
  • A mother passed by with her tween son and daughter and shunned the son with the phrase: “Here’s the stinky man aisle.”  She abandoned him, and his sister waited to mock him as he set out to pick out his first deodorant in shame.  I paused from pounding products and considered helping him – I didn’t.  He went for the cheap stuff on sale and ran out into the main aisle as his mother returned.  They rejoined the father that happened to be the MAN IN THE UNDERWEAR.
  • Tired of embarrassing myself by making a small scene to get my friend to stop talking to the needy old lady, I rounded the corner on the opposite end facing her.  I realized the lady was inquiring about lady shaving products.  Specifically bikini area hair removers.  My friend looked captured, but upon seeing me, finally excused herself.

Oh Target, you complete me.

Drunken Recollection… Sports Cars, Semis, And Use Of The Word “Better”

Posted on by sgottahurt

It was the best of Miller Lites; it was the worst of Miller Lites.  In other words, drinking with friends has its good days; drinking with friends has its bad days.  Here are the examples…

BEST

My good ol’ buddy Jay and I were discussing the state of the world one day, when he begin trying out some new philosophy he was developing.  I don’t quite remember the details as he worked through them, but my translation of what he was trying to say was this:

Women are sports cars and men are semi rigs.  Men prefer their women to be a two-seater, i.e. they’ve only been with one guy – that guy.  Men, as trucks, are also two-seaters, but if they have an extensive history in their trailer, it shouldn’t be a surprise to their lady friend.

There was some part about women being minivans and another deal about a bunch of guys hanging off of a sports car, but that’s the gist of it.  Do I get it?  Do I agree?  Only if I get to be a helicopter.

Men are from Mars, Women are from "Cars"

Men are from Mars, Women are from "Cars"

 WORST

It’s hard to get my goat but Jay got my goat good.  All I know is that the discussion slipped into an argument (a one-sided argument most likely) about there being more than one way to use the word “better.”

My stance:

There’s a “better” that expresses an opinion, and there’s a “better” that expresses fact.

Opinion “better” – G.I. Joe is a better movie than Transformers 2.
Fact “better” – Water is better to drink than oil.

A Freudian Psychologist's Dream Dream a.k.a. The Baroness Can-Can

A Freudian Psychologist's Dream Dream a.k.a. The Baroness Can-Can

 Until the next brewsing…

Drunken Recollection… Shopping At Target As A Morality Play

Posted on by sgottahurt

Seven seasons of septegenerian heaven

Seven seasons of septuagenarian heaven

If there’s anything I’ve learned in this life, it’s two things:

1) Don’t shop while hungry tipsy.

The second one I’ll share at the end.

Basically, I met up with some friends for a couple of drinks after work and opted to stop at Target because I needed a few things.  Those few things needed:

  • Laundry detergent
  • Vitamins and fish oil pills
  • Air conditioner air filters
  • Um… Charmin
  • And some food

On the way into the store, I noticed someone had left their headlights on.  I memorized the license plate and approached the cart guy outside the store.  He told me to head to the customer guest service desk, where this happened:

Me: Excuse me, but someone left their headlights on in the parking lot.
Worker: They’ll probably just turn off themselves.
Me: I don’t think so.  It’s an old green Escort parked in a handicapped spot.
Worker: I’ll get to it when the line is clear.
(I wandered off to look at the sales ad in case the worker wanted more information.)
Random lady (leaving): You were very nice for doing that.
Me: Well thank you.

Me Just Grim...

Me Just Grim...

Feeling victorious and uplifted, I made my way to the toy section first.  No real reason why, other than force of (forcive?) habit… of collecting.  Being in between a series of collectibles to search for, I’ve often eyed the animated Transformers toy line, and upon finally hearing the worker announce the Escort parked in a handicapped spot with its headlights on, I picked up a mini-Grimlock.  No essentials yet.  Just a small child’s toy.

I rounded the corner into the Lego aisle and what did I see?  Brand new Indiana Jones playsets.  Say what you will (and I have) about the last movie, the playsets from Raiders, Temple of Doom, and Last Crusade are pretty sweet, and in my hands in an instant (Ambush in Cairo almost made the cut).

Deflated and defeated, I put back everything but Grimlock and walked over to the electronics section.  Guess what I discovered there?

Every season of Golden Girls for $9 each!

I had a similar impulse a few weeks ago when the first four seasons of Saturday Night Live was on sale for $20 each, but this one I’d follow through.  Several weekends in September are about to be booked up.  Mjusayn.

I eventually gathered up my remaining essentials, plus a ton of food.  (Yay! Hard salami‘s back at Target!  For now…)  I put the bottle of Gain laundry detergent and a bottle of Liquid Plumr (‘cuz you never know) on the bottom of the cart, and a thought crossed my mind:

I wonder if someone will check the bottom of the cart…

At the checkout counter, the clerk brought something to everyone’s attention:

Somebody really must like Golden Girls.

I emptied the basket and pushed it forward to refill it with bagged items.  I noticed I had slipped the Gain and Liquid Plumr past the clerk.  I looked back into the eyes of the people that laughed at my must really liking Golden Girls, and a voice echoed in my head:

You were very nice for doing that.

I removed the two jugs from off the lower tray.  “I almost forgot something.”

After paying, I headed to my vehicle, past where an Escort with a dead battery could have been.  As I filled my trunk with purchases, the cart attendant approached to help.  I said thanks, and he nodded as he took the cart to add it to the returning basket train.

Finis.

Oh yeah, and the other thing I learned:

2) Don’t assume your friends ordered whatever beer was
on special, because it just might be regularly priced.

Drunken Recollection… Bikinis, Bikinis, Bikinis, And Are Baseball Highlights The Best?

Posted on by sgottahurt

When hot meets hot

When hot meets hot

This might have been better suited as a JusWondering, but it shall end up as a Drunken Recollection nonetheless, mostly because I recall being drunk while just wondering these things…

Who thought it would be a great idea to have women work in bikinis?

In an industry that requires hair nets, plastic gloves, and, um, clothing in the kitchen, besides the obvious reason of having scantily clad women taking food orders and delivering it, why do we have scantily clad women taking food orders and delivering it in bars and restaurants?

(scroll over links for images)

Does pouring hot beverages in bikinis sound better?

Working as a mechanic perhaps?

Maybe somewhere in a hospital?

How about as a baseball player?

Speaking of baseball, are baseball highlights the best of all sports highlights, or what?

It’s possible I think this right now because they’re essentially the only sports highlights on TV, but does a backwards catch thrown in reverse into a double play beat a lateral pass touchdown?

Ah, I need a drink.  Time to hit up a bikini bar to watch some baseball highlights.

Drunken Recollection… Cogs And Truth Bombs (And A Hooters’ Barstool Trick?)

Posted on by sgottahurt

gearsThis may be surprising, but I can get talkative when I’m drunk.  I know, right! 

What this means is that I theorize and pontificate, and generally make an ass of myself.

But sometimes ideas occur to me that are worth remembering…

For example, one idea I had was how people are a lot like cogs.  Some people are big cogs and others are small cogs.  And they spin at different rates to keep up with each other or because of each other.  Some of them don’t touch but are rotating due to a shared gear.  Okay, there was a whole lot more that went into this, but you get the idea.  I rambled on and on for awhile (remember: druh-unk), and it seems to be happening again.  Moving on…

Another thought that entered my noggin was the notion of truth bombs, and how I wish you could drop them on anyone and everyone to let the other person know where you stand in your thoughts about them.

I was reminded of two movies that used truth bombs: For Love of the Game and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. 

In For Love, Kelly Preston’s character tells Kevin Costner’s character that she wishes people could carry around chalkboards on which they could write what they were thinking.  He asks her what she would write, and she writes on a napkin, “Yes.”  Then they do it.  Well, it goes down something like that, but that example is not really what I’m hoping to convey.

In Eternal Sunshine, at its finale (SPOILER ALERT!), Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet confess all their faults to each other before trying to get back together after wiping their memories.  Yeah, that’s a little closer, but I digress.

I thought this concept was pretty original, but then I uncovered the definition for truth bomb in the Urban Dictionary:

(noun) A fact or piece of knowledge that, when told to a listener, is devastating to the listener’s argument or world view.
“Dude, I dropped a truth bomb on my priest at confession yesterday. I slipped him The DaVinci Code, which disproves his whole religion!”
Tupac dropped truth bombs on the American people, letting them know what it’s like to live in the ‘hood.

So… so much for all that. 

How about a Hooter’s waitress performing the infamous rodeo barstool trick to wipe the memories of this post (you hold up a napkin with the word “Yes” on it).  My cog just spun yours, and you’re welcome:

(SIDE NOTE: Why is everyone at the news station just going along with this?  And in the morning?  And as a reminder about something called “Wings for Kids”?  And did you see the guy in burgundy in the background trying to watch without getting caught watching?  And… just… why?)

Drunken Recollection… Nuclear Urine For Jellyfish?

Posted on by sgottahurt

Known for: being a fair-weather fan, squishy

Known for being: poisonous, squishy, a fair-weather fan

Who’s says you can’t learn new things when you’re drinking?  Time and again, when I make a point to remember the revelations experienced despite the buckets of booze in my system, chances are pretty decent I won’t forget.

For example: last night at trivia, a question we’ve had before reared it’s head.

Q: What type of bird is most commonly used as a state bird?  It’s currently used by seven states.
A: Cardinals.

I don’t know this.  But I remembered it.

Just like I remember finding out that there’s a minor league baseball team in Albuquerque called the Isotopes.  I did not previously know this, but I knew it had to be named after the team in The Simpsons.  I did not remember that in one episode of the show, the home team was supposed to move to Albuquerque, but now I know via Wikipedia, and it makes their name choice that much less arbitrary and forgivable (sorry about the drunken tirade, Isotopes!)

Another thing I was forced to investigate after another drunken tirade was the notion of urinating on yourself after being stung by a jellyfish.  Much debate was given on whether it had to be your pee, someone else’s pee, if it could be a beer piss, etc.

These are some facts things I discovered:

  • Urine can help.
  • Urine doesn’t do anything.
  • Urine can make things worse.

Soooo… hopefully I won’t encounter any jellyfish when I vacation in Mexico later this year.  Now I know that I don’t know anything for sure, but I probably wouldn’t let someone pee on me, or me on myself, just in case.  I just hope I remember that when I’m on the beach – and drunk.

Drunken Recollection… The Difference Between Wants And Needs

Posted on by sgottahurt

I learned a couple new things about myself the other night, courtesy of pouring fermented hops down my throat, of course.  Discoveries are rare as they are, so here are my findings.

There Are Things That I Want

Such as t-shirts that broadcast products that I like…

mtndewtshirt

Hey ladies, guess what I drink?

seinfeldtshirt

Hey ladies, guess what I've watched?

And There Are Things That I Need

Such as definitely bullhorns on my Honda Civic…

civicbull

Drunken Recollection… News At The Speed Of Twitter

Posted on by sgottahurt

Last night, while playing trivia at the bar (natch), a question came up (natch) that we made an educated guess on (unnatch… we usually guess blindly).

The question in question:

In what year was the stamp first used:

  • 1640
  • 1780
  • 1860
  • 1910
True story. Also explains BGP... ("Beer Goggle Phenomenon")

True story. Also explains BGP... ("Beer Goggle Phenomenon")

Since my intelligence increases exponentially with the amount of alcohol intook (intaked? intaken? I’m not drunk enough to know this right now!), I stumbled upon a method of deduction.

In ye days of ole, peasants probably wouldn’t speak to each other via any other method but their mouth or fastest son.  Maybe a carrier pigeon if they figured that bit out.  And monarchs had messengers, as did this country’s forefathers.  Remember, they had that whole bit about wax seals (not to be confused with wax walruses).

So we talked and chatted it up.  WWI would be way to late, and it seemed like the Old West would have had mail.  Then it struck me – The Pony Express!  I didn’t know what year they were around, but 1860 sounded ’bout right.  And lo!  ‘Twas!

We hooted and hollered it up and guessed performed well the remainder of the game… until Doc Holliday tripped us up.  Actually, it was Satine.  From the movie Moulin Rouge!  (The producer’s exclamation point – not mine.)  We could not for the love of the game of trivia think of tuberculosis, as in “What did she die from?”  We knew Doc had it, and maybe Walt Kowalski had it, but alas, we did not get it.  Farewell sweet $100…

But I digress. All of the above is not what this post was supposed to be all about.  I know it is so far, but bear with me.  This is about a little unexpected experiment that occurred after trivia, and it ties in with the Pony Express.

This took me way longer to make than I would have liked. Speaking of which - do you like?

This took me way longer to make than I would have liked. Speaking of which - do you like?

Right after the game, my friend and I thought it would be funny to put on Twitter that he and his girlfriend (whom was sitting beside him) had broken up.  Not even a minute after posting it via my lovely iPhone (it’s just a 3G, not a 3GS – don’t H8), each of their phones were blowing up.  Followers Friends on Twitter asked for details and offered denials.  It was amazing.

Okay, I guess the bulk of this post was about the Pony Express after all.

(Sorry Sue about all the damage control, but remember what I do is in the name of comedy, whether people find it funny or not!)

No wonder Twitter Bird is so fast!

No wonder Twitter Bird is so fast!

Drunken Recollection… Going For The Goldfish?

Posted on by sgottahurt

I wouldn’t exactly say that I’ve been around the block (although technically, as a child, I rode my bike around the block a ton… I don’t know what I want this metaphor to mean!).

Let me begin instead with this: I’m for all intents and purposes (or is it “intensive purposes?”)…

I’m a bar frequenter.  An aficionado of affordable alcohol.  If you have drink specials, considered a seat filled.  It’s been this way for me for quite awhile, as I haven’t been tied down by much of anything.  Tumbling tumbleweed is how I often refer to my life.

So it’s safe to assume I’ve seen a fair amount of oddities in my bar days.  I went to New York City to participate in a Snuggie Pub Crawl for Pabst’s sake!

But now I’ve discovered this:

Yup.  Goldfish racing.  In the bar.  For prizes.

It's better than swallowing goldfish when drunk. Barely.
It’s better than swallowing goldfish when drunk. Barely.

Apparently, this is not a new practice either.  It (seems to have) started back  in Utah, as long ago as 2004 (whooohoooo), and it’s been a subject of controversy since it’s inception.  A press release by the Humane Society:

Words, words, words...

Words, words, words...

 There are a few styles practiced.  There’s the squirt gun style, as seen in the above video.  Some people use straws, and they blow above or below the water, depending on the arena.  And of course, some guy in Japan’s turned it into an art form… not unlike NASCAR:

Why do I bring this all up, you ask?  As we were leaving one of the bars I frequent, a friend mentioned he saw a sign saying something about goldfish racing.  I laughed and thought he was making it up, yet here’s this post.

Now if I can just remember which bar we were at…