This could have been In My Brain While Sleeping, but it may have occurred to me more as I was waking up: Tony Danza, famous for playing characters named Tony, should host the Academy Awards this year instead of Hugh Jackman.
Not to knock Wolverine off his high horse, but I think it’s time for this amicable, consummate entertainer to get his crack at another day. Sure, “The Tony Danza Show” had it’s many flaws, but what about “Taxi” (the show not the flick)? Who can forget the gender battleground that was “Who’s the Boss?” And then there’s, um, always “Hudson Street“…
Plus, he’s been in film, and that’s a requirement to host the Oscars (David Letterman squeaked by with a cameo in “Cabin Boy“). I’ll always remember Tony’s stunning performance in “She’s Out of Control!”
Ricardo Montalban, aged 88, has passed away. He is best known for portraying Mr. Roarke on “Fantasy Island” and Khan in the second “Star Trek” film (and, of course, the original series, duh).
My lasting memory of him will remain in the form of this commercial that mixes two of my favorite things – Taco Bell and talented lions (which Detroit is in great need of):
If I had known you were still around recently, you would be greatly missed. May you please settle for moderately missed.
Hopefully, that's what's awaiting you, big guy... no, not another you... ah, forget it
Watch this and tell me you weren’t effected by it in some way you robot:
It’s like the Long Island Ice Tea of emotions – you get your Aaaaw, then you get your laugh, then you go back to Aaaaw again. The only ingredient missing is a puppy sneeze.
“I once rated a baby a 2, and the mother wrote me and said, ‘I think my baby is more than a 2.’ ” Malis refused to change the rating. “My attitude is this: I didn’t make your baby a 2 — you did. It just happens to be a 2. That’s what it is; I’m sorry.”
Man, I need to see this baby. I found one that combines the same attributes as the above pooch video, and it has 2-rating… but I’d venture to bet that there is more than one ugly sleepy kid on the TripleDoubleU.
Today, I will apologize for the slew of drunk Uncle Sean posts over the last week and a half, as they were part of my cover.
I was on a voyage traversing the um, er, one sea and (edge of) one ocean, and after arriving home early yesterday morning, only now am I able to catch up on some of the great things on the TripleDoubleU.
Firstoff, I set out to view some of NPH’s skits on SNL this weekend. It was hit or miss, from what I saw. But as a self-proclaimed pre-emptive Abby Elliott fan, I was proud to see her get the spotlight in the cold-open, where she portrayed Rachel Maddow
My pal, Chris, thought she sucked. I thought she was great at getting the details (her voice could have been a little bit lower). Here’s the skit and a bit from Maddow’s MSNBC show. What do you think?
Vodpod videos no longer available. more about “Saturday Night, Um, Fight”, posted with vodpod
This could be will be the greatest film ever. It’s set to arrive here in May. Not sure if it will come in theaters or on DVD, but Magnolia’s handling the distribution, so it could be a simultaneous release.
And I’m all about the simultaneous release. Like when you’re helping to hold a fridge or a heavy cabinet, and you both let it go on the count of three… yeah, just like that.
Gather ’round, gather ’round, kiddies… it’s time for another one of Uncle Sean’s drunk stories… this tale is includes everything – intrigue, comedy, romance, adventure, tragedy… at least the way I remember it does…
Saint Patrick’s Day is one for the textbooks, here in Detroit, and over in Chicago… maybe some places in New York City, and definitely over in Ireland (or wherever in the world an Irishman may own a pub). But this story doesn’t take place on St. P Day. It happens a few days before, but in the spirit of the inebriated hullabaloo, it may have well been.
It was the first trivia tournament my team and I partook in. It was hosted in the day by a night club I had not previously visited, and we were all pretty nervous going in. We drove in one car and had the intention of letting Uncle Chris worry about getting us home since he is wont to be a teetotaler. A few drink specials and missed trivia questions later, we were many sheets to the wind, and came the closest we ever will to winning the grand prize of $1000. (More importantly, we were thisclose to each getting a mini-fridge.) All we would have had to do was bet zero points, but I digress.
As per usual on any trivia night, all the other teams up and left, except for the first place team, and another team we befriended through the season. All the TJ’s (trivia jockeys) were still there, and soon enough, the owner of the trivia company was buying everyone shots.
Flashes of highlights:
Intrigue! We played trivia… We could have won… Mini-fridges!
Comedy! A team of Miller Lite marketers descended upon the place, adorned in their green belly shirts and skirts. The day was turning to night, so the night club atmosphere was developing. A thought popped in my head and I lead a friend from the other team over to the gathering of emerald ladies. “Excuse me,” I began, “my friend Richie would like to take a picture with you all.” He was embarrassed, but he stood there like a champ as the bevy of beauties surrounded him on the short staircase. I backed up, and took another step back, sizing the photo op up. I raised my fingers and mimicked a camera. “Click,” I said as I pantomimed pressing a button. The liquor squad did not like that one bit and they scattered from his side. His jaw dropped. One of those departing chimed, “Did you get a good mental picture?” No, but I got a good laugh. (I wish I said something about having a photographic memory.)
Romance! I know the Cupid Shuffle, and I did not know that I knew it.
Adventure! I got sick and managed to stop myself twice, but one time I couldn’t, and it ended up under the table. I proceeded to leave, and got sick again immediately upon reaching the cold air, a few more times. I found Uncle Chris waiting outdoors as well. He was equally as sick as I. We tried to head to the sports bar next door to get some food, but it was too hot in there. So we walked to Aunt Venessa and Jess’ home. About 4 to 5 miles away. In about 4º to 5º weather (it probably wasn’t that cold, but for literary purposes, it works).
Tragedy! Chris is a drunk klepto (did I not mention the drink specials and free shots?), but he doesn’t take anything other than glasses from bars. He had one in each of his cargo pants’ side pockets – one from the night club and one from the sports bar. On the long walk, we passed a taxicab company and knocked on the window. They told us to call, but neither of us had our phone. During the trek, he stumbled and fell a few times, and didn’t break the glasses somehow. Yet upon reaching the park next to the final destination of home, he removed the glasses to look at them, and somehow dropped and broke them.
Okay, it’s not an altogether classic story, but it left me with some good mental pictures!
MORAL OF THE STORY: Always carry a spare roll of film for your brain.
Gather ’round, gather ’round, kiddies… it’s time for another one of Uncle Sean’s drunk stories… this time it’s about what makes this country so great… especially Detroit…
Independence Day (the holiday, not the movie) is a time for celebrating our right to blow things up and be American! One particular Fourth of July, we showed our dedication the best way we could… by buying illegal fireworks from Ohio.
Now, you youngsters might be wondering, “Isn’t that illegal to buy things that are illegal, Uncle Sean?”
And that’s my point – it’s American to do just that very thing!
As we sat on my front porch which is on a main road in Detroit, cars drove by while mortars and missiles and fountains rained down colored flames. No one paid a mind, and a great time was had by all… especially because we had a couple of 24 packs inside that dwindled down faster than a sparkler.
SIDENOTE: I used to have three lawn chairs. They were the old aluminum frame ones with cross-hatched plastic strips. They were pretty crappy, but still comfortable. One by one they were eventually stolen off my porch, but on this day I still had all three. Viva America!
One of my friends slash your uncles either didn’t know how to sit in these chairs, or he was the straw that broke the camels back, so to speak, but the cross-hatching gave way under his weight and he fell and bent the frame. We all had a good laugh (he may not have), and I pushed it further by tossing it over the bushes onto my front lawn as the show continued, courtesy of Uncle Rich.
Some neighborhood kids came down to see if they could buy some fireworks off us. We weren’t selling, so they stole some. Viva America!
Your Uncle Jay and Uncle Rob decided to pretend they were in G.I. Joe, so they each grabbed a Roman candle and had a battle in the front yard, roadway, and across the street shooting at each other. I suggested that Jay use the downed chair as a shield (Rob was the one who broke it). Viva America!
SIDENOTE: The people across the street from me were evicted. A big dumpster full of their belongings was parked out front. There were boxes, furniture, mattresses. You’ll need to know about this later.
After the battle used up all the ammo, I thought it would be funny to suggest that Uncle Rob throw a mortar into the dumpster to see what would happen. As if he was in Mission Impossible, he scurried to the trash heaps steel base. With his back pressed to it, he lit the firework and chucked it in. He ran back across the street to us. And we waited. And we waited. No flurry of sparks. No explosion. We deduced that it must have need its launch tube.
As the supply of fireworks winded down (the beverage supply was getting low too), your Aunt Sue readied to put the last mortar into the launch tube. She stood over it as she prepared to light it. This was her first for the night. We shouted at her to stop… pointed out how dangerous that was. On cue, a tiny flame flickered out of the dumpster.
Everyone leaped into action. Sue and Rob scrambled to pick up all the debris littering the front yard. Rich, Jay, and I hurried inside to grab bowls to fill with water to put the fire out. From my kitchen, through the front door, I could see that the flames were out of control. Jay pulled out a colander.
“We need a hose and some trash cans,” Rich said.
Outside, we filled and carried trash can after trash can and ran across the road. A pair of women walking down the street laughed at our efforts. Viva America!
The fire truck eventually arrived. I carried the last dose of water. I nodded as they took over. We all hid inside as they finished the job, which took quite awhile. They even had to pull out the charred remains to make sure it was extinguished. That’s when we realized the cases were empty.
MORAL OF THE STORY:We should have ran to the store well before the Roman candle fight.
Gather ’round, gather ’round, kiddies… it’s time for one of Uncle Sean’s drunk stories… this one is about something that only happens in the movies… or when you’re really drunk…
Once upon a time there was a welcoming place called Cadillac Cafe. It was called the Alibi before that, and many other names since then, but for a brief period of time, under that moniker it existed.
Sure, it was a ways from home, but it was a straight shot up the Grand River. Let it be known that in this place, a wonderful and strange event happened, that may or may not have happened the way I remember it.
At this time, I used to be a helper at a local doctors’ office. I would do menial tasks, such as file forms and file claims. I was but a boy working amongst mostly older women. In hindsight, I should have taken a job at the local eatery or merchant with others my age, but such is life.
A few of the women I worked with were closer to my age, and we would make it a point to collect a gathering of folks and visit the Cafe on weekends. Fun was always had – even if your Uncle Jay may not agree. Ask him about the time he stepped on a fair maiden’s hand that he liked while they were “freaking.” She broke a nail. His spirit broke – it was great. Also, one of his future ex-mistresses happened to work there, though he didn’t know it at the time. What a small world!
On the day of the event, I had my share of libations and I took to the dance floor as I was wont to do. For whatever reason, on this eve, as I was out there “skanking,” another fellow took up the space beside me and did the same. A crowd slowly formed around us as the songs continued. People chanted and cheered. Him and his friends took turns, tapping out on one another’s shoulders. Each of them had different styles of moves. (I had three at best.) But I remained on my own the entire time. It felt like the glow from a light up above was shining down on me (it was – from a ceiling fan… Cadillac Cafe was a restaurant during normal hours… didn’t I mention that?)
Once the last song ended, my competitors and I parted ways without a word or second glance. My friends dubbed their leader “Powder” because he resembled this guy:
Same guy that was in Boondock Saints and Young Indy Jones... different complexion... same hat?
And they declared me the winner. But there were no winners that day… only losers.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Don’t get into real-life dance-offs. They’re gay. (Sorry HilDuff!)
BONUS: A song by another co-worker-at-the-time’s friend’s band – Drunk Uncle by the Miracle Berries.
Thank you dearly to Filmdrunk for bringing this video to my attention. If you haven’t seen it before, you haven’t seen anything. If I had this kind of focus, imagine what I could accomplish in this world. Sure, I might tip over the edge of a piano with no one there to catch me, but still…
BONUS: And for Venessa, a follow up to an old Happy Find – Episodes 2 through 4 of “My Best Friend is My Penis.” Plus Episode 1, if you missed it.
monkeyBLOG monkeyDO 
