Drunken Recollection… Someone Else’s Insight

I didn’t compose this graphic – my cousin Steve did.  It pertains to, well, a lot about life, and I find it brilliant:

(Not So) Artistic Representation (Not Done By Me)

My favorite is:

…being far from sea level…

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Drunken Recollection… Shopping At Target As A Morality Play

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

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?)

In My Brain While Sleeping… A Trio Of Deliriums

I don’t even know if there’s an interest in the strange things I dream about, but it’s my blog and I can cry write about it if I want to.  I look at it mostly as the catalog I always meant to keep, but um, now do.

Over all the years, and even the months of this site, I know many odd and wondrous things have slipped through the cracks.  I collect here those that made it past the brain fade into oblivion, or the ones I care to share, which honestly are almost all… For example, I exclude those that are merely half ideas or lack narratives, like the dream where I had a motorcycle again (whoo hoo) or owned a gun that was combined with a bullhorn (a loudener, if you will).

For the sake of avoiding specifics on these dreams, I simply made montages.  In one case, it’s a Montag.

DELIRIUM 1

elephantdream

INGREDIENTS: Penn & Teller, two elephants (one pictured), a giant spatula, and buckets of fake blood.  It was one of their acts.  It was initially horrifying, then not so much so.

DELIRIUM 2

ocarinadream2

 

INGREDIENTS: Well, more of an explanation is needed here… there was this baby that had oily (pre-acne) skin, and depending upon how you touched the infant’s back, the child would make musical note sounds like an ocarina.  So as you held the baby in your arms, instead of crying, you heard elevator music, or the stylings of Kenny G.

DELIRIUM 3

speididream

INGREDIENTS: Spencer and Heidi Pratt and the cast of Kappa Mikey.  Man, those two don’t know the meaning of the word overexposure… and yes, they were in this cartoon.

OVERALL INGREDIENTS FOR DELIRIUMS (OR DELERIA, IF YOU PREFER): Velveeta cheese after beer and Pizza Rolls before beer.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Loud Noises, Where-Wolves, And A Bounty Hunter Makes A Correction Regarding His Name

Since this blog is an open book to all my weaknesses, it’s sorta turned into my (NERD ALERT!) Xavier Protocols.  Of my weaknesses (vanilla-scented anything falls high on that list), loud noises while I sleep smacks near the top.  On the night of these particular dreams, I fell asleep with the television on only to be awakened by a loud lawyer commercial.

Okay, it wasn’t that one, but imagine if the explosions were audible, then you’d get the picture.

hulkblonsky

Anyambulancechaser, in the first dream, I encountered a new breed of night creatures… the WHERE-WOLVES.  How were they different than werewolves?  Let me explain with a (NERD ALERT!) toy from the remake reboot whatever second Hulk movie:

You see, in the flick, which I have not seen, the dude on the right mutates into the monster on the left.  This toy, called the Hulk Deluxe Mutating Abomination, does not mutate at all.  Instead of either really mutating by adding water, or by simply imagining that it happens, the little guy fits into a compartment on the back of the big guy.  Dumb?  You bet.

Well that’s pretty much how where-wolves worked.  Wolves merged with their host humans so both could exist.  To recombine, humans hovered over the wolves.  Now that you’ve pictured it, moving on…

My other dream involved a (NERD ALERT!) Star Wars character.  Growing up, I knew this bounty hunter…

4lom

…as Zuckuss and this guy…

zuckuss

…as 4-LOM.  But as it turned out, the original Kenner toy line had it wrong in the 80’s, and with the re-releases of the toys in the 90’s, they rectified the problem and named each of them correctly.  To me though, Zuckuss will always be 4-LOM and 4-LOM will be Zuckuss.  Until I was corrected in a dream.  This guy…

4lom

…showed up to tell me his name really was Allen.

INGREDIENTS: Turkey and provolone on a bagel and a Mountain Dew.  And beer.

JusWondering… Can You Get Drunk Off Milk?

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 PhiladelphiaBurn 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.

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Drunken Recollection… More Or Less Than Jake

Let me begin with this: last night I saw Less Than Jake in concert at St. Andrew’s Hall in Detroit, and I.  Had.  A.  Blast.

It was quite possibly one of the best concerts I’ve been to in a long time, and I’m pretty sure it can be attributed to going with my brother, Scott, and my cousin, Steve, the fact that I’ve been a fan of LTJ since their Losing Streak album came out in 1996, and lots and lots of draft beer.

I swore to try to remember as much of the highlights as possible.  So here I go:

  • We started at the casino.  Scott and Steve had been drinking prior to, and I was playing catch-up (I think Steve was playing mustard).  Scott was recounting how at one concert he was hit in the head with a full water bottle and got knocked out for a bit.  This will play out later.
  • Having only one phone between us, we decided we should make our way to the show so as not to miss LTJ.  We got there in time to see the Flatliners (not the Julia Roberts/Kiefer Sutherland pic).  We were glad not to miss any of the main act, but we wished we could have gambled more.  Especially once I realized they had Star Wars penny slots.  May the force be with the 30-line spin!
  • We laughed at a woman wearing Mom Jeans and her man that looked like Tom Cruise circa The Firm.  Steve would end up befriending them and giving them high fives later, but still…
  • I thought of a pickup line.  Then I thought it might work as a pickup line to ask if the pickup line would work as a pickup line.  I was going to ask one girl but her man came back.  So I turned to another girl who was way too crossed-eyed to be so snotty in my opinion, and I said, “I heard your brother’s the drummer in the band.”  Her response, “If my brother was in the band, I’d be backstage, duh.  But nice try on the pickup line.”  Steve returned from the restroom or a beer run, and he heard the ending.  He thought I asked about the line, but I informed him that I just used it as is.
  • A gaggle of older dudes (my age) started moshing at the back during the second opening act, which was the more more accessible band called the Expendables.  One dude bumped me more than once which caused me to spill beer on Scott’s phone.  I turned to face them and the dude’s friend apologized.  What I said to appease him, I want to put on t-shirts:

Like this but better... not much better, though.
Like this, but better… not much better, though.
  • Also, the dude that made me spill my beer wanted to get punched in the face… he told me so.  I said I would, but he had to punch me too, kinda like a Rocky/Apollo Creed freeze frame kind of thing.  His friend told us to wait until after the concert.  I agreed.
  • Once LTJ started, the mosh pit was incredible.  Being one of the taller guys, I’m usually asked to lift people to body surf, but not as many people were willing to for some reason.  At the end of the regular show, I decided to go.  The bouncer that flipped me over told me I was too big to be doing this.  I agreed.
  • When the encore was in full swing, some of the kids that helped me up before wanted me to do it again.  I told them I was yelled at last time, which only spurned them on more.  So I went up again, and the bouncer repeated the fact that I was too big to be doing this.  If I did it again, I was going to get kicked out.  I didn’t go back by those other kids again.
  • It was about this time that Steve was high-fiving Tom Cruise and Mom Jeans.  Scott had been hit in the head, but by something other than a water bottle.  This little kid appeared out of nowhere as the main floor cleared, and he was picking up who-knows-what off the floor.  I saw the friends of the dude I was supposed to punch, but they lost him.  They informed me that if I saw him, I should swing for his right eye, because his left eye was already bruised.  I agreed.
  • Scott was going to sleep in the car while Steve and I would gamble more.  We parted ways at the garage.  As we were wandering around in the casino, we ran into Scott.  He couldn’t find the car.  It was amazing to stumble across each other because only Scott had a phone.  Lucky!
  • I lost ten bucks in the Star Wars penny slots.  I would have only lost five, but a woman asked me to watch her spot so she could run to the restroom.  I only had thirty cents left, so I threw in another five.  More or Less Than Jake, it was a good night.