TV

JusWondering… Can You Get Drunk Off Milk?

Posted on by sgottahurt

For the month of May I’ve decided to cut out some of the things that have made my life worth living… Taco Bell, Mt. Dew, beer, um, Taco Bell, Mt. Dew, and beer, yeah…

So far, four days in, I’ve managed to keep up with the plan and maintain the social habits in which my usuals are consumed.

  • Friday – MGM Casino and Detroit Tigers’ game (drunk kids behind us would have been more fun had I also been smashed)
  • Saturday – My brother’s play (totally would have drank afterwards normally, but it was actually really entertaining)
  • Sunday – My friend’s softball game (I’m the scorekeeper, usually armed with a pen in one hand and a beer in the other) 
  • Today – 80’s Night at Comerica Park (booze fest, natch)

Yet alas, here I am, prodding through with my plan, having nightmares about caving in and drinking Mt. Dew (seriously), getting tempted like crazy.

But something strange has been occurring the last few nights.  As I sit down on my couch to prepare for a late night, pre-bedtime viewing of TV shows on DVD (just finished the hilarious It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia… Burn Notice is next), I’ve been partaking of a glass or two of low fat organic milk.  And after drinking that second glass, I’ve been feeling a wee bit tipsy.

So I decided to investigate if this was a phenomenon, or merely something in my head.  I remember in the short-lived comic book, X-Nation 2099, the mutants would get drunk off of milk.  So why can’t I?

There are many cases of infantile beriberi (kakke) in Japan. In most instances the mother of the afflicted infant has beriberi. However, sometimes the mother is healthy (concealed beriberi). Ito observed such a case in which the mother did not have beriberi and called the condition “mother’s milk intoxication.” But he afterward changed this name to “breast milk intoxication” because he saw cases in babies who were nourished with the milk of wet-nurses.

PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) is very provocative in its media campaign about milk, but it is correct in its message. Beer is indeed better than milk for health, as are both wine and distilled spirits.

  • Doing too many shots of milk produces the same result as too many shots of liquor:
  • Bill Murray drinks a glass of warm milk before he goes to bed.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

 

more about “Bill Murray in FCU: Fact Checkers Uni…“, posted with vodpod

(My Boss) Paul’s Top Five List… 80’s Toy Commercial Songs

Posted on by sgottahurt

It’s about that time for another list from my boss, and long time on-again, off-again friend, Paul.  How do I know it’s time?  Because he told me so.

Top 5 80’s Toy Commercial Songs (Non-TV Show)

5) Madballs – Freaky fun for everyone.  I had one or two of these. [I had the mummy one.  I also collected the comics. Why they had a comic is beyond me.  Why I collected them is even farther out. – Ed.]

4) Toys R Us– Just like the song said… I didn’t want to grow up, either.  Some people, like this blog’s owner, never have.  [Damn skippy. – Ed.]

3) Skip It – A shoddy toy, but a cool song. [The counter on the ball is analog.  Totally worth watching the vid simply for that. – Ed.]

2) Lego – Like Zack, we were all Lego Maniacs back in the 80’s.  [Since I’ve never grown up, I’m still a Lego Maniac.  – Ed.]

1) My Buddy – My brother, Bert, had one.  Not sure what happened to it.  Not a big fan of the toy, but the song is so catchy that I find myself singing it to my two year old son, Logan.  I call him “my buddy.”  Pause for the awwwws.  [My eyes are still rolling which makes it tough to type. – Ed.]

Okay, for the real one, click here.

Happy Find… Michael Jackson Auction Items

Posted on by sgottahurt

This bit of info is about as late as my mail usually is (curse you enemy couriers!), but Mr. Moonwalk himself, Michael Jackson, recently hosted an auction of his fabulous stuff in Beverly Hills. 

Scratch that: he charged people $20 a (king of) pop to look at all his crazy shit, and then up and cancelled the auction.  But not before Lindy West of Slog (or should I say, of The Stranger?) was able to get in and snap a few pics.

Some highlights (not the magazine for children, though I’m sure MJ had a subscription):

Who drew this? That kid my eighth grade class that always doodled Garfield, Q-Bert, and ALF? (In other words - me.)

Who drew this? That kid in grade school that always doodled Garfield, Q-Bert, and ALF? (In other words - me.)

Creepy doesn't begin to explain this thing.

Creepy doesn't even begin to explain this thing...

Creepy definitely is a good start here.

Creepy is definitely a good start here...

Click on the links above the photos for even more insanity.

 (Thanks Veness)

JusWondering… Which Celeb Site Is The Worst?

Posted on by sgottahurt

I like blogging. 
I like reading other people’s blogs. 
Most of the blogs I read are about celebrities.
Therefore, celebrities do not need to have blogs.

But oh they do.  I was searching around for some bad ones, and though I’m sure there are more, these were some of the highlights of what I found.  Let me know what you think.

Goop by Gwyneth Paltrow

goop1

On the surface, it may seem understated, but inside, it’s pretentious goop all over the place.  Like this dress up Gwyneth section, or talk about her travels with her dad, Bruce, that seem kinda creepy.

Kim Kardashian

kimkar

From one of the fakest women in the world comes one of the fakest blehgs in the world.  Wanna see Kim look like she’s been visited by Madame Tussauds?  Or if she was a Real Doll?  Then her site’s full of pics like this:

kimkarwax

Melanie Griffith

melgrifmagicdoor

My vote for the winner is Melanie Griffith’s site.  Not only does it seem abandoned, but it also includes the Magic Door, as seen above.

For the full experience, turn up your speakers and click here.

The NYC Saga Prequels

Posted on by sgottahurt

The NYC highlights are finito, so now I shall present the problems that almost made the trip impossible.  And to keep up the nerdery spirit, I present them as… the Star Wars prequels, because they’re just as shitty.

EPISODE I
THE FENDER MENACE

To keep it short – I was going to drive my car to New York.  It’s a bit newer than Steve’s car, and it gets better mileage.  On the why to get its brakes checked, an accident occurred that smashed my radiator (and my front fender and headlights).  So much for that…

EPISODE II
ATTACK OF THE PLANS

I’m not sure on all the details, but Steve was on a business trip for the first half of the week.  He was supposed to get back Wednesday (we were leaving Thursday).  Then his job needed him to stay a bit longer.  Then his flights were delayed.  Then his layovers were lengthened.  He made it back barely in time for our night soccer game.  He didn’t get to get the oil and tires on his car checked, like he hoped.  So much for that…

Oh yeah, so that, plus I woke up at 6am on Thursday, hoping to get home early from work in order to nap before soccer.  But instead, a client’s computer blew up on me and it consumed – no, devoured – my day.  I was at the office until 8pm trying to fix it, and to print out all the maps and instructions for our trip.  So much for that…

EPISODE III
REVENGE OF THE SPECTRAL FOX

On the drive to the Big Apple from the Motor City, I was wired.  Steve slept a bit for the first part.  Around 5am, I drank one of those 5-hour energy boosters, and Steve woke up to talk.  All of the sudden, I hit the breaks.  I thought an animal ran in front of the car.  It wasn’t until the shock of it all settled in that I could describe it.

A small red shadowy smokey spectral creature, like a fox, rushed into the road, looked at me, then darted back to the brush.

Needless to say, at the next exit, we switched.  So much for that…

(Not So) Artisitic Representation

(Not So) Artistic Representation

So what’s next?  Perhaps this:

Drunken Recollection… The Empire Snuggies Back

Posted on by sgottahurt

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.

 

EPISODE V
THE EMPIRE SNUGGIES BACK

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.

img_0056img_0057img_0061img_0063img_0065

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):

img_0068

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

Drunken Recollection… New York: The Saga Continues…

Posted on by sgottahurt

Okay, so where was I?  Ah yes.  On Wall Street, which was under construction.  We were looking for the giant bull statue for the hell of it, even though we (Steve and I) were unsure if there was a giant bull statue in New York.  (There is… but we couldn’t find it.)

Around this time, I finally got to hear the voice of a fellow blogger (we’d eventually meet up later during my trek through East Village).  Our phones were running lower on energy than we were, so we decided in order to make it through whatever the night held in store for us, functioning electronics seemed important, and we returned to home base.

At the hotel, we plugged in our cells and due to the lack of sleep (this will be explained in the prequels), the Snuggies (this will be explained in the sequel) and bed were mighty tempting.  Yes, I typed “bed” with no “s.”  They only had a queen available (which I should probably specify is a bed size, seeing as how people might have preconceived notions about NYC).  Apparently, a four-star hotel according to Hotwire consists of this criteria: if they don’t have a pair of twins available (again – bed size), they’ll give you each a cookie.  A cookie that was prepared earlier in the day.  Possibly for the continental breakfast’s dessert?

But I digress, and as such, our digestive systems had processed those cookies long ago, so dinner sounded like a plan.  We asked the concierge to recommend a pizzeria (one that served booze was our only criteria).  He recommended one nearby – Angelo’s, on 55th and 2nd.  (Don’t I sound all local-y?  My confidence in understanding the map of the city ultimately proved to be a bit too confident.  Sequel…)

We ordered the flat-bread pizza and $6 beers.  Steve quickly learned that when the choices for $6 beers are Bud, Bud Light, and Bass Ale, you choose Bass Ale.  As we ate, we eyed the happy hour going on across the street ($3 beers!), and as soon as we finished, we headed over there for a few more (choices: Miller Lite, MGD, Sam Adams?  Sam Adams, of course!) and then back to the hotel to retrieve our banes of existence means of communication.

We headed toward Central Park to await our first fellow bar hopper – another Steve.  As we wandered the streets, we passed the bridge that Spider-Man battled on with the cable cars (I’m soooo cultured), and I missed the entirety of the quiet beauty that was the sunset that night.

As we began slinking in and out of a plethora of East Village bars, our group’s number grew to four with Tim, and five with Evan.  Eventually my fellow blogger met up with us after a lot of phone- and text-tagging, which was cool.  The hookah joint we were waiting to get into was taking too long, so we headed to another bar that carded people for some reason (nowhere else did).  In the sorta dark, sorta empty, martini-ish bar (what would be the opposite of a hole-in-the-wall?) we ended up at, I brought up Lost, I investigated something weird on the table with my fingertip (thankfully it was Guinness foam), and I think I even mentioned Twilight (the movie – not the book, as if that makes a difference).  Oh yeah… wonderful, wonderful Guinness was ordered around.  One guy selected a bottle of wine “with one glass.”  And mussels somehow ended up on the table.

Members of our group started parsing off at that point.  I recall a sliver of a diner that was stopped at by the solo wine drinker and that it amazingly carried no smell whatsoever, good or bad.  And somehow Steve and I made it back to home base.  (Taxi?  Subway?  Feet?)

I’m beginning to feel like this may be Uncle Sean’s Drunk Story Time all over again… So much more to go!

In My Brain While Sleeping… A Dreamy Episode Of 30 Rock

Posted on by sgottahurt

This dream unfolded as an episode of 30 Rock.  I shall try to capture it for you.

INT. WRITER’S ROOM – DAY AFTER SHOW

lizlemon

 

 

Last night’s skit about President Obama was a success.  All the trades are talking about it.

toofer

 

 

They’re not speaking positively about it Liz.  You said he was a member of the Illuminati.

lizlemon

 

 

We were poking fun at the fact that every president is in the Illuminati.  We don’t want to appear left-winged all the time.  Besides, the Illuminati doesn’t even exist.  I don’t even know what they’re all about.

tracyjordan

 

 

(running into room, disguised not necessarily as a ninja)Did you hear?  An eight year-old blogger was assassinated uptown because he said he didn’t like the president’s new dog.

lizlemon

 

 

That’s ridiculous, Tracey.  Obama would never do that… would… he…

INT. JACK’S OFFICE

Tracey and Liz visit Jack to discuss the possibility of danger.

jack-donaghy

 

 

The both of you don’t really believe the conspiracy theory that the Illuminati exists, do you?  Let alone the possibility that our latest president could be a part of that organization?  And that he would be willing to assassinate bloggers?

tracyjordan

 

 

Eight year-old bloggers.

 

jack-donaghy

 

 

Tell you what.  To appease you both and to provide a sense of safety, why don’t we get that makeup artist in here…

lizlemon

 

 

The one that turned Tracey into Robery Downey, Jr?

 

jack-donaghy

 

 

Yes, that one.  He–

 

Jack’s office window suddenly shatters and Tracey and Liz flee, screaming.  Jack picks up a found golf ball.

jack-donaghy

 

 

Moonves, isn’t it a bit early for building tee off?

 

INT. TOOFER’S APARTMENT

lizlemon

 

 

Wow, Toofer… this is a really nice place for the salary we’re paying you.

toofer

 

 

It didn’t come equipped with windows.  That’s how I can afford it on my salary.  And your welcome, for letting you stay here.

tracyjordan

 

 

(eating food out of Toofer’s fridge) Thank you.

 

INT. JACK’S OFFICE

Liz and Tracey try various hiding places while Jack talks to them.

jack-donaghy

 

 

A week has passed, and no serious threats have been made against your lives.  Can you finally admit that there is no Illuminati?

Liz and Tracey finally stand up and face him.

lizlemon

 

 

Yes.  Yes, we can.

 

black-phone

 

 

(Anonymous voice from speaker phone) That’s sufficient.

 

robert-downey-jr

 

 

You know Jack, Liz and I have learned a lot from this experience.  Like not to jump to conclusions when eight year-old bloggers get assassinated.  And how to make pumpkin pies.  Toofer is a great chef and teacher.

THE END

Drunken Recollection… A Canadian, A T-Shirt, A.I., And Some Bars

Posted on by sgottahurt

It’s been awhile since I’ve had a Drunken Recollection.  It’s not so much that I have no Recollection.  It’s moreso that I haven’t been Drunken (or I give it all up to Twitter – damn!)

This past night was an odd collection of  Items to Note:

Note 1) Our live trivia host sounded identical to Norm MacDonald.

How cool would it be if the pic on the mug was holding a picture of Norm holding a mug?

How cool would it be if the pic on the mug was holding a picture of Norm holding a mug?

And that wasn’t a bad thing.  It was simply strange, because the guy looked more like this: 

Not to be confused with Kris Kross.

Not to be confused with Kris Kross.

Note 2) There was a guy that was very proud of his t-shirt that read, “My Giveadamner Is Broken.”

I couldn’t find the exact t-shirt he had, but there are plenty of varities out there.  Apparently, I could have cared less, so I guess my giveadamner was broken, too.

Note 3) The American Idol judges saved someone?

This was playing in the background on the TV, so I have an excuse.  Okay, I really don’t have an excuse because I watched the show the day before, and I thought local-yokel Matt Giraud didn’t perform that great.

american-idol-matt-giraud

More "grating" than "great."

Albeit, I would listen to him for 100 years before listening to Adam Lambert sing Born to Be Wild ever again.  Or anything, for that matter.  (I hope Allison wins, or maybe even Anoop!)

Note 4) CBGB stood for Country, Blue Grass, & Blues?

ZOMG! It's closed!

ZOMG! It's closed!

CBGB’s, as far as I knew, was the place where hardcore punk was born, not country, blue grass, and blues?

This topic brought up conversation about the Fillmore in San Francisco, and how there’s one here in Detroit since Live Nation gobbled up the State Theater and renamed it.

I tried bringing up the historic place in Detroit, where groups like the MC5 got their start, but no one knew.  So I had to research it.

Found it:

ZOMG! It's abandonned!

ZOMG! It's abandonned!

 I was thinking of the Grande Ballroom.

………

That’s all I got.  I already mentioned my giveadamner’s broken.