The Secret To Having A “Mary” Christmas

Here’s a tip for all you last minute shoppers:
 
If you want to get some help at the store, don’t get angry with the sales people and call them an asshole, asshat (my new favorite epithet by the way), fuck face, piece of shit, heartless bastard fuck, fuckup, fucking loser, or ne’er-do-well cocksucker.
 
Get angry and call the sales associate this: Scroogeman.  Apparently it works.  (My aunt was the mastermind behind this – it made the worker do a 180.)
 
My theory on why this is effective is because people get called derogatory terms all year ’round.  Saying Scroogeman drudges up a coded history of bah-humbuggery and it implies that you are seeking out being a bastard.  It may not be full-proof because some people go out of their way to be jerks, but most people working in retail probably have a weak-spot for the Dickens’ classic.
 
So try it… or not.  See if I care.  Merry Christmas, asshats!
You are a Scroogeman!

Itsnotta Scroogeman!

Drunken Recollection… Monday Night Nerdfest

Monday Night Football Trivia was in full effect last night, and I learned that there were more U.S. soldiers in the Korean War vs. the Vietnam War, Turkey was not only a part of the Ottoman Empire and Iran was not only Persia (they were both a part of Mesopotamia), and prior to “Titanic,” the highest grossing Best Picture winner was “Forrest Gump.”

While the competition occurred (we were in third place before the last question, but we wagered all of our points on “Gone With the Wind” on guess-which-question), these were some of the topics of discussion:

  • I have had a song stuck in my head for a few days.  I had the melody and this lyric: And somebody picked on me.  It turns out that the lyric is actually: And somebody snitched on me.  The song was “I’m Getting Nothing for Christmas.”  (Thanks to Kelly for playing Scooby Doo on that one.)
  • Talk about holiday parties began, and about how cool it would be to hire a waiter or waitress for New Year’s Eve.  I thought it’d be funny to hire one for any day.  Have a couple of friends over… the waiter/waitress can change the channel, get us beers and snacks… you know, stuff like that.  When nothing was going on, the waiter/waitress could play video games with us, or watch the season finale of “Lost” with us.  We wouldn’t be dicks about it.  It would be for the sake of uncomfortable awkwardness and a good story to tell.
  • Speaking of dicks – this store’s name brought us grown infants a heaping amount of joy:
    I originally saved this file as dicks, but changed it to avoid confusion.
    I originally saved this file as ‘dicks,’ but changed it for obvious reasons.

    We talked about how their midnight madness sales could be called “nocturnal emissions” and that the idea for the event “came to them at night.”  This was the least crass example – trust me.

  • The night ended not at the bar, but playing “Call of Duty 4” once again.  As we were leaving, paintball was brought up, and one friend stated he would wait in a tree outside my other friend’s house in order to ambush him.  Due to the cold weather we’re experiencing, it was also brought up how he would freeze to death waiting.  Since this particular friend is leaving the state for a new job, everyone would think he left early, and no one would notice he was missing until the spring.  But since my friend didn’t clean all the leaves that are awaiting under two feet of snow, his body would get lost in the leaves… yada yada… I’ll stop there.  This is what video games are doing to adult minds – imagine what they do to the kids.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Watchmen Anxiety

In case you’ve been living under a rock or in a coma (which in the cases of you really being a hermit or a recently awakened patient, then I’m sorry about the sarcasm), next March may or may not be the month that “Watchmen” gets marched out (see what I did there with the, um, doubling months thing).

There’s still a lawsuit pending between Fox and Warner Bros. over the rights to the story, but little did I know how much this affected me.  All night I dreamt about this movie.  My brain tried to convince me it was going to be crappy, too.  I saw images of the film being projected on screen as though it were still a comic book graphic novel.

It was comparable to this:

(from DarthsandDroids.com)

(from DarthsandDroids.com)

Or even worse, the first “Hulk” flick

What follows at the bottom of the post is the most recent preview for “Watchmen.”  It can’t be bad, can it?  Like “Sin City 2” “Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow 2” “The Spirit” level bad?

All I’m saying is Fox better not fuck this up for me… I don’t know if I can take more nights of tossing and turning and seeing the Comedian so sad (he’s the guy with the moustache at the start of the preview).  The kicker is Fox doesn’t even want shared profits – they don’t want it released!  Fox owes me for cancelling many-a-splendid shows, such as “Arrested Development,” “Firefly,” “Futurama,” “The Tick,” and “Profit.”

They sure as hell better not cancel “Watchmen.”

JusWondering… The Road Less Sneezed Upon

As I arrived at the office today, I realized something.  Well, just now I realized I’m either borderline British or pretentious because I was thisclose to typing realised, both times.  But the main thing I realised is that I have a real aversion to these bad boys:
Knock knock... Whos there? Germs... Germs ach-who!
Knock-knock… Who’s there?… Germs… Germs ach-who!

There’s two ways to get to my office, and I choose the way that has three doors to open vs. two.  You would think I’d choose the lesser of two infectious evils, but the path to more doors (must resist “Lord of the Rings” reference here… too late) consists of these precious humdingers:

I can open you with one finger... resisting other off-colour remarks... another Brit/pretentious retort!
I can open you with one finger… resisting other off-colour remarks… another Brit/pretentious retort!

If you think about how many disgusting hands that have touched these things… it gives me the gee-willikers (now I’m prohibition era comic strip talking).  I’d still rather use one finger to open the second doorknob, than use my entire hand on the first.

Now you know, and knowing is half the fracas (so pretentious it is.)

Musical Musings… Shooting Guns, Shampoo, Skilled Apes, And Sparks On Tongues

Last night while playing “Call of Duty 4,” I was leaning over the ventilation, um, vent at my friend’s house.  My hair was blowing , but I was so into the game, I didn’t notice it until my friends started singing the Isley Brothers’ “Who’s That Lady” like in that old shampoo commercial.

This is not the shampoo commercial, but it does beg the song’s titular question:

While driving home, I passed the local hookah spot and saw a truck with no headlights on.  I wanted to flash my headlights to let them know, but I wondered if that old urban legend was still in effect.  You know the one: gangbangers drive around with their lights off, targeting anyone who flashes them.  This made me think of that crappy movie “Urban Legend,” and how it opened with Natasha Gregson Wagner singing Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”  Except I think her legend was about the guy hiding in the backseat.

Here’s not a clip from that movie, but something much better (viva la apes!):

I also heard this song by Matt Nathanson, and it made me wonder if his lyrics at the 2:04 mark are in reference to this post:

All I Want For Christmas Is… A New Fast Food Joint

How about Pasta La Feasta's instead?

How about Pasta La Feasta's instead?

About a month ago, when I realized I had become a drive-thru regular at Taco Bell, I created a post that gave a few ideas to entrepreneurs for new restaurant chains (Kabob Stop, Dim Sum Gong, Pierogi To Go, and Taka Sushi).

After having some time to think, and after getting sick of my same old options (Wendy’s, KFC, Arby’s, the aforementioned Bell, Culver’s, Burger King, Quizno’s, Jimmy Johns, Potbelly, Qdoba, National Coney Island, Kerby Coney Island, CiCi’s, A&W, Mickey D’s, and Hungry Howies), I’m really craving a change.

They tried putting in a Del Taco nearby my work (ugh) and the nearest Sonic is still a good 40 miles away.

What I think is missing (besides the places I created) is a fast food Italian cuisine.  Fazoli’s was the closest thing we had to that, and although it wasn’t the absolute greatest, it worked.  Too bad they shut ’em all down in Michigan.

If anyone wants to take me up on my ideas, go for the Polish one first.  I probably won’t eat at the other places anyway.

Sparks To Lose Sizzle Come Next Yizzle

2008 was a tough year for everyone.  It was especially tough on the “malternative” nation.  A few months back, MillerCoors announcing they were canning Zima (no, not taking out of bottles and putting into aluminum… they’re scrapping it altogether).

The plan was to push Sparks in its place, but assholes across America had other ideas (from AP):

MillerCoors agreed to remove caffeine, taurine, guarana and ginseng from Sparks and not produce caffeinated alcohol beverages in the future…in a deal with 13 states and the city of San Francisco, who had contended the drink targeted young drinkers.

The company must also eliminate all references in advertising to caffeinated formulations and not promote Sparks as a mixer for caffeinated drinks. It will remove the plus and minus symbols — which evoke a battery — found on the blue and orange cans for the product. The company also agrees not to use batteries, rockets, lightning bolts, or the terms “powered by” or “ignite” in marketing the new formulation.

The MillerCoors settlement… includes the attorneys general of Arizona, California, Connecticut, Idaho, Illinois, Iowa, Maine, Maryland, Mississippi, New Mexico, Ohio and Oklahoma and the city attorney of San Francisco.

It’s a devil’s brew of a product because it combines caffeine with alcohol,” (Steve Gardner, litigation director for public advocacy group the Center for Science in the Public Interest) said.

If Sparks is the devil’s brew, what are Jaeger Bombs?  Rum and Cokes?  Hell, what’s a Long Island Iced Latte?  (Okay, that last one doesn’t exist, but I’d try it.)

All of this is like a version of “Field of Dreams.”  In that movie, “If you build it, they will come.”  In this situation, it’s “If you change the formula, they’ll just find something else.”  Stupid.

I believe Carles of Hipster Runoff puts it best:

Sparks was more than just a drink. It was truly a BRAND. It was more than ‘just another product.’ When I think of Sparks, I think of a lifestyle. I think of good times. I can honestly not think of another beverage with a brand stronger than SPARKS. After a night of Sparks, I could not fall asleep. My heart felt like it wanted to burst of out my chest. My tongue would be orange the next day. Another memory of the previous night–I would look in the mirror, stick out my tongue and smile…

Save one can. Hide it somewhere–this is now your forbidden fruit. In the next few years, something will go wrong or you will feel down. Treat yourself to the sweet nectar that is Sparks…

Honestly. I would give anything for one more SPARKS vomit.

You have until January 10th to get the old-school Sparks.

Mommy, I want one!

Mommy, I want one!

Drunken Recollection… Misunderstandings, Winter Wear, Big Noses, And A Song About Monkeys

After having bee trapped in my home for the last sixty hours (57.5 of which were probably spent on the couch) due to a snow storm, I finally ventured out last night.  Grant it, my car got stuck in the driveway, but I still managed to head out to one of my old dives.

While there, my friend, Jay, and I watched football highlights and waxed poetic about the old days in the joint.  We talked about whether the Lions would fail us and actually win a game.  And we laughed at the amateurs playing in a televised poker tournament (one woman named Ellen had no poker face, but she was kicking aces!)

On the ride back to the neighborhood, a conversation came up about Under Armour.  Don’t know how, but it proabably had to do with insulated clothing in the cold.  He brought up how they have cold weather lines and hot weather lines.  I wondered if I should invest in the hot weather line when I play soccer, yada yada.  The part that made me laugh was when Jay described the technology they use.

“Wicket,” I thought he said first.

“Like the Ewok?” I asked.

“Wicked,” he repeated.

“Like the porn company?” I wondered.

We didn’t get to me mishearing Wiccan, and I think we decided on Wicket (I can’t find anything about this on their site or Wiki page), but it reminded me of one of my all time favorite comedy scenes in a movie.  It’s from “Roxanne.”

It’s subtle – sure.  But I love misheard-based humor.  Here’s the lyrics for a song I wrote when I had a band named Monkey Spank Monkey Do that eventually became oddcookie.  (This sight was thatclose to having the original band name, but I was afraid of what type of people might visit).  We never did much as a band anyway.  Sorry I’m not attaching the music.  Whatever you make up in your head will probably be better anyway.

Simianuff

That day that you told me
You didn’t want to see me
Anymore I just didn’t know

I wanted to ask you why
You didn’t even start to cry
Up and out you gave this reply:

You never simianuff, you never simianuff, you never simianuff

After that I had went on home
My mind so far it had been blown
Away by your rationale

I wanted to ask what you
Meant by saying “simianuff”
But I didn’t want to piss you off

So in turn I became primate
And bought myself a monkey suit
Bananas and “Tree Climbing Monthly”

I hope I’m simian enough, I hope I’m simian enough, I hope I’m simian enough

I started hanging around you
Quite often literally
Being my new simian self

You acted like I was
Insane, was what you called me
I only did what I was told

So you said, “I’ll see you around”
Mumbled something under your breath
I haven’t ever seen you since

You never see me enough, you never see me enough, you never see me enough
You’re never seein’ me enough, you never simian enough, you never simianuff…
Oh fuck…

(P.S. I must also have a fascination with monkeys.)

All I Want For Christmas Is… More Scrubs Soundtracks

Aaah, “Scrubs.”  You are the middle child between “E.R.” (the secondone with George Clooney, not the first… look it up) and the highly comedic, though at most times unintentional, “Grey’s Anatomy,” and you’re still the best at what you do.  (I picked Michael Crichton’s show as a reference point because it was an issue when “Scrubs” premiered.  People wondered why they would need two shows about interns.  Ask CBS what they think about crime scene investigators… and for that matter, what NBC thinks about blending cop procedural and court cases.)

Mixing pathos and humor so well for seven seasons, like a fine chef or bottle-flipping bartender (more Bryan Brown than Tom Cruise), you finally started getting some respect once you hit that magical 100th episode (that’s when shows can get syndicated).  NBC had been dicking you around for years, and when the seventh season was up for grabs, ABC – your owner – was ready to take over.  Having little else going on over at NBC, they used up the short season (due to the writer’s strike), and then hung you out to dry.  You’ll get to finish your magnificent run on ABC starting in January, but that’s not what this post is about.

scrubsIt’s all about the music, baby.  No other show utilizes the music to advance the story quite like “Scrubs.”  Check out the integration of Colin Hay’s Overkill (formerly of Men at Work).  What upsets me is that they’ve only released one CD for sale after the first season (after the fifth season they did a collection only available on iTunes… 14 songs to cover four seasons), but i want more.

greyscd“Grey’s Anatomy” gets three CD’s, but they push their music, not quite like “Smallville” did at the end of its early episodes, but there still is a hey, check out this quirky new artist quality about it.  Hence them releasing three CD’s.  “Scrubs” just lets it be, and maybe that’s why I prefer music from them.  It’s between the show and the audience – there is no marketing department forcing the producers’ hands.  So when season six ends on Say Anything’s Alive with the Glory of Love, I should just accept it as the way it is and be happy.

What?  There’s a torrent full of “Scrubs” music?  Never mind.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Sacrilege X-Treme!

Yesterday, I had a snow day.  Yes, adults can have them to… when they’re lazy.

Michigan had a huge snow fall, so all I did was sit on my couch all day, laptop in, um, lap, reading and milling about.  I almost forget to eat about midday, and when I stood up from the couch, my legs weren’t ready to work and I’ll fell back again.  They were sleeping… I guess they were just being lazy and took a snow day too.

Anyhardsalamisandwich, I finally ate a hard salami sandwich and returned to the couch for the rest of the eve.  At a very late hour (10:30ish if I recall), I opted for some cake (see below).  Not too long after, I brushed my chompers and opted for bed.  (Did you know that I brush my teeth with a hair brush?  I goes much quicker.  Ha!  No, I don’t.  I fooled you.  But I do use a swatch of human hair.)

In my slumber, I had a mess of messed-up dreams.  Here’s the snippets I recall:

  • Vampires.  It was fucking scary as hell, and all I know is I was one too.  There were various forms and sizes that you could only see if you were a blood-sucker, and it answered my question of, “why would anyone say they wouldn’t want to be a vampire?”  I’ve been asking my friends this lately, and some say they want to die (to which I said a stake would work) and some said they didn’t want to outlive their loved ones (to which I brought up the benefit of turning your loved ones undead as well).  But srsly… this one was wicked.  It woke me up in the wee hours of the morning, like at 1am.
  • Dog Baptism.  I don’t remember much other than the brouhaha surrounding the church when this plan was going down.  It was a golden retriever (a Sandy shout-out), but I’ve never had one.  (We had two mini mutts, a mini schnauzer, a cairn terrier, and mini daschund – little dogs, little poop + no crotch shots).  I feel like the walls started crumbling down as beams of light shone through the stain-glass windows.  It could have been reporters for all I know.
  • Spaghetti Sauce Made With Ice Cream.  A friend was showing me how to replace butter and milk in a recipe for spaghetti sauce (as you can guess, I have no idea how anything is made).  He used a lot of French vanilla ice cream and threw black and bell corn pepper into a container of it, then he mixed it with an equal amount of tomato sauce.  It looked nasty, but I never got to taste it.  A few things to note here: I dream way too much about spaghetti.  Don’t get me wrong – I enjoy it, but it’s not like I’m obsessed with it.  And why is this sacrilegious?  It’s a waste of perfectlygood French vanilla ice cream… which I’m obsessed with.
  • Unnatural Childbirth.  In the future, a woman swallows a device called Point A.  Point B is then placed on a rolling poll, much like I.V. drips, and positioned accordingly between her legs.  Point C and D (which look like Point B) are placed to the left and right of her womb.  Point E is under her table, and Point F is on a movable arm above her belly, like a light at the dentist.  A doctor managing a computer checks the coordinates and engages the devices.  A portal appears beside him which contains the child.  He scoops the small one out, snips and ties the umbilical cord, and hands the baby to the nurse.  He disengages the portal and hands the newborn over to mother.  No cesarean section nor vaginal tearing.  It’s not really sacrilegious either, but do you think this kind of technology will get an easy pass from fundamentals?  Doubt it.

INGREDIENTS: Pepperidge Farm Fudge Stripe 3-Layer Cake that was best if used by December 10th, which was the third item I tried to eat in the last two days that was expired.  The others were a plastic box of lettuce and a bag of grilled chicken (I planned to make chicken and salad when I bought them two weeks ago).  Oddly, the lettuce smelled like ass although it didn’t look rotten (for being a week overdue), and although the bag o’ chicken expanded like it had botulism or something, it did not smell, so I ate it.  (In case you didn’t know, I you buy a bag of any food and it expands, that means bacteria is growing inside… it’s some report I saw… I think…) 

Back to the chicken for a second – since I wasn’t in doubt (although I was, but it was minor), I didn’t throw it out.  I put it in the mickyfor two minutes, and since I had no idea what to eat it with since I had no lettuce, I threw shredded mozzarella on it and Italian dressing anyway.

Now back to that cake – even though it doesn’t say so (check the pic below), I’m beginning to wonder if it was actually devil’s food cake.

Too rich for my boiling blood... in hell!

Too rich for my boiling blood... in hell!