The Uncle's Blunders: Vol. One

Picture it...Saturday morning following a night which ended at Domino's, where the Uncle banged on the windows for the Domino's to serve just one more customer. No dice. They were closed, so he ambled home with his tail between his legs and went to bed--but not before slamming a container of sweet potato and russet potato medley (cold).

The morning brought some unpleasant feelings from the belly region, so the Uncle proceeded to his second favorite chair and sat down, wondering what was worse: the smell, or his blinding headache due to his unrelenting hangover. Either way, he staked his claim and finished up. Prior to flushing, he lit his usual post-deposit match and dropped it into the mass of toilet paper that had collected on top of the water in the bowl. Naturally, the paper caught fire and formed a surface blaze on top of the shit. That's right, the Uncle managed to light his own shit on fire. However, burning shit was avoided when he acted quickly and flushed it all down.

Moral of story: blow out the match before dropping it into a mass of paper and shit.

Penises, Peeing, Potpourri.

I hadn't had a physical for seven years before visiting the less-than-lovely South Boston Community Health Center yesterday afternoon. It was quite an experience. I fielded a series of questions upon entering the exam room with the doctor. He asked me everything from parental health to sexual activity and he seemed very nervous the whole time. I didn't think doctors were socially inept, but maybe I haven't been exposed to a true sample. My pediatirican was a real ball-buster (figuratively, you sicko) and the other two budding doctors that i know are both fairly charming and funny individuals.

Anyway, he assured me that by the time I left the appointment I would have all of my questions answered as well as know how to give myself a testicular cancer exam. I appreciated both assurances a great deal.

The weirdest point of my physical came during his lesson for testing myself/my balls. At one point, he was talking to me, looking up at me, and holding my nuts in one of his hands. He spoke about feeling the testes for a good five minutes, all the while cupping my balls in his left hand. I'm standing there with my boxers at my ankles, and all I can say is "Yup. Yup. Yup." I was staring at the wall, praying for it to be over. It amazes me that it's so natural for these guys to have a pair of balls in their hand and not think anything of it. I guess that's why he's the doctor and I'm not. Ball tolerance. I have no tolerance for another's balls, in any regard.

The second weirdest part came when he asked me if wanted the rectal exam, or the two-finger test. I adamantly shook my head. I couldn't even utter the words "fuck, no" because I was speechless. Do men have this done at an early age just to be on the safe side? Boy, I hope not. I've got another 12 years of letting this opportunity pass me by and I'm thrilled about that.

Something else came to mind today that pissed me off. I was having lunch with the sales team from my company at Longhorn Steakhouse this afternoon and i had to visit the men's room as soon as we arrived. Why is it that 90% of all restaurants can't have simply 'MEN' and 'WOMEN' on the doors of the restroom? It drives me insane. This one had 'BULLS' and 'LAMBS'. Stupid. Ever been to the Outback? 'BLOKES' and 'BIRDS'. That one got me steamed the first time I went there because I have no fucking idea what a BLOKE is. And BIRD was pretty indeterminate as well. Some others I've seen: LADS and LASSES (not so bad. I'm a nice LAD), HARRIES and SALLIES (I opted to piss behind the dumpster upon seeing this), JACKS and JILLS (cute. While I'm in your bathroom, I'll be sure to fetch the pail of water without breaking my crown, you dipshit)...the list goes on. What ever happened to BOYS and GIRLS?

My nose is running. I've gotta go catch it.

NAFTA=North American Fucked Trade Agreement

Eli Manning is a fucking retard. The poster boy for pussies around the world turned down probably the most glorious place in this country to live (scenically and temperature-wise) in order to be traded to the Giants. He could be going to the Superbowl this year with San Diego. Now, I don't blame him for wanting to play in NY, because being the Giants quarterback would be a dream come true for any pro quarterback entering the league. Fair enough. As we assess this trade today, here's where Eli stands and where the three players received in his stead stand.

Three words: THREE FUCKING PRO-BOWLERS. Yes, Rivers, Merriman and Keading are all on the AFC Pro-Bowl roster. Any guess as to who the NFC's QB is? Not Eli Manning...some guy from the Saints (gulp). No, the cry-baby pussy is not going to Hawaii. He's possibly not even going to the playoffs and I have to say that it's at least 50% his fault. Just his actions in the Tennessee game were enough to warrant dishing out half of the onus onto his shoulders. And then he did it again in the Philly game. And then he pouted. I'm so glad I'm not a Giant fan. I used to hate when Bledsoe would put his hands on his hips and tilt his head after throwing a ridiculous INT, but Eli's little eye-roll and pout and eventuall head-to-chest walk off are infuriating. I'm surprised he hasn't been picked off by a sniper yet. Who, in God's name, assessed his value upon making this trade? Asinine. THREE FUCKING PRO-BOWLERS. Can any San Diego fan watch Giant highlights without bursting into tearful laughter?

Looking back at trades and assessing them years later is not a fair thing to do, but in this case, it's hilarious. HILARIOUS. A thanks to Mr. Bowen for pointing this out.

Man, it's good to have Tom Brady.

Bedtime Story

What happened in the bed-size naming process? I was thinking about that last night, as to why they left the Royalty/medieval theme and went to a theme that is pretty much theme-leth (theme-leth=theme-less as pronounced by he with a lisp, or seamless by he with a lisp, as it were).

The biggest of all beds is the King, or the king of beds, maybe. It's fit for a king, especially that of a huge king. A king bed can pretty much sleep four. The Queen is slightly smaller than the King but still fit for a small King or the large-sized King's Queen. I've been sleeping in a Queen lately and it's more than enough room for two. I've also been sleeping in a full lately, and that also offers just enough room for two. But why full? Is it a full-sized bed? No, because the king is the fullest. How did they come up with full? Full of shit is what the bednamers were. It should have been called the knight, or maybe the duke. Full is crap, or full of crap. Hmm, maybe I'm onto something here. And lastly we have the twin. I suppose we get twin from the bunk beds, as the top and bottom bed are twin-sized. I'm okay with that, because a twin bed is only fit for one twin. The other twin would be shit out of luck, having to sleep on the floor. Unless of course his family had bunk beds, in which case this second twin would sleep in the other bunk, or the other twin bed. My suggestion would have been to call this bed the prince, as the prince is the King's son. In the spirit of the Spin Doctors, bunk beds would have two princes, and yes, they adore you. But both princes would have big seals upon their jackets because you can't rip them off. So don't just go ahead now.

Oh, Good Lord!

Vegas was, in a word, forgettable. Listen though, only because I don't have a full recollection of the trip, ok? It was fucking awesome in every way, except for the horrible night I had on Friday. But I'll get to that.

For starters:

Line of the Weekend provided by the incomparable BOF., aka Fornari.

"She's a sober Asian chick. Of course she'll come back."

To put this in context for you, we were at our table at Body English (courtesy of the 'Boys beating Atlanta by 10 and winning us enough to justify the cost of a table at that place) and Fornari was alongside some Asian girl. She disappeared and Fornari was asked if she was gone for the night of if she was coming back. That was the response and it was awesome. Just awesome.

Other memorable events: Richie and Carl telling some girls that I was the gay one in the group and then the girls approaching me to ask if I'm really gay. Did I refute that or not? I can't remember. For record sake, I'm not gay...not that there's anything wrong with that. Another great scene was the waiter the Steakhouse at TI. He was from my hometown and he said something about the blueprint for Nick's Roast Beef. Both Carl and I were blown away by this. Other than that, he was an absolute hack. He said things like "fine selection", and "oh, that's my favorite". Let's see here...don't go to Seamless if you're gonna do the whole strip club thing. The place is pretty JV. Either go to the Rhino or to Sapphire's. But I hear you can get pretty, pretty, pretty close to the genitalia of the strippers at Seamless. Heyooooooooo!

My first full day back from Vegas, I got to play NBA2k7 against Ryan Gomes after the C's practice yesterday and it was incredible. What a cool guy. And I almost beat his ass, but he pulled some computer-assisted shit at the end and won via two PPierce J's in the closing minute. And it has been confirmed that D-West is loony. What an absolute maniac that guy is. Hilarious, but borderline mentally challenged. I also shot around with the new ball, and I didn't think it was too bad. Then again, I'm not playing with 8 hours per day. I took five shots on their practice court: An elbow J, which I drained as my first shot, and four layups. I missed one of the layups, so Doc decided not to invite me back for a legit tryout. Fuck me. But if you ever get the chance to play against an NBA player in a video game, do it. DO IT.

A Tribute: 5-day weekends, deals that get done and football.

Before I begin...a little something I have to take care of first.

Nina Gilbert (no complaints!):

Hippie mom of two
My favorite spinach pie
What a weird husband

Now back to the tribute. This is a pretty big weekend we have ahead, and not just for me because the Vegas Vacation is finally upon us. How about the fact that there's five nights of football on the horizon? Amazing. If you want something to watch tomorrow night, please turn on the UMass v. Appalachian State game for the Div. I-AA championship. You won't be disappointed in how hard both of these teams play. It's also the final regular season home game for the Pats; however, it is the Texans. Ahem. But you never know. I might even take Houston against the spread in this game. But Rodney Harrison was upgraded to doubtful yesterday. Let me just say that if I ever do NOT want to be upgraded, it's if I'm being upgraded to doubtful. FYI, the upgrade that occurs before this one is from 'No Fucking Way' to 'No Way'.

Onto deals that get done...Dice-K is in the fucking seat, everybody. My prediction is this: He goes 13-7 with a 2.98 ERA. I think that would be tremendous, and I also think that he's capable of surpassing those expectations. What gives me this feeling? False optimism. I've got tons of it, including a little bit towards the C's signing AI. Hey, there's a snag in the JD deal. Excuse me for not giving a flying fuck. Jed Hoyer spoke on behalf of Theo and Larry last night, which leads me to believe that they really don't give a fuck either.

And finally, 5-day weekends. GLORIOUS. First three in Vegas then back to the Bean for two straight days of sleep, with La French's holiday party and Richie and I playing against the C's in a 2k7 tournament on either the 360 or PS sandwiched between. Yes, you read right. We're playing against a handful of Celtics to prove that pro-athletes hold no advantage in video game bball. I'll let you know how that transpires, butI have to thank Rich for this brilliant idea. I will say that I suggested sticking more than one average Jack in there to validate the sample.

Odds and ends...UMass beat Louisville on the hardcourt last night. Rashaun Freeman is legit (we knew this though) and I was very impressed with the poise of the team down the stretch in that game...

Rest in peace Billy Simard and Dennis Babin. Billy was the father of one of my best friends who lost his battle with cancer this morning. The man loved the Pats and roast beef sandwiches...can't think of two better loves. We'll miss you , Bill. And Dennis was my first drum teacher...although I only took one lesson before realizing I could teach myself more effectively. Dennis lost his battle with OC's a few days ago. One more kind and decent soul sacrificed to an addiction. Sleep well, Dennis.

Ok, have an upbeat and swell weekend overall. I'll be making love to a T-Bone and some 3-card poker in my favorite place on earth.

More Haiku

For Daisuke:

Fitty-dollah bill!
Daisuke is Japanese
Fitty-dollah bill!

For the Dolphins:

Buy a victory
Harrington is a huge bitch
Buy a quarterback

For Albert Haynesworth:

Giant man stomp face
Fat bastard. You should be shot.
League gives slap on wrist

For Rich Levine:

Two turtles. Yes, two.
You can't take care of yourself.
Vegas, man. Vegas.

For Eric Fornari:

Are you ready bitch?
Leave your stethoscope at home
Bring some adderol.

For Carl Fierimonte III:

Stanley is prepared
Twenty-four ounce Porterhouse
I'm afraid for us

For Lauren Cohn:

Learn how to clean stuff
Cleaning makes the world go 'round
And I'm hispanic

I'm all Haiku'd out
Time to stop being poet
Regular blog now

England is experiencing an overwhelming growth in the hedgehog population. Due to unseasonably warm temperatures, hedgehogs have been able to prolong their mating season and what was once a scarce species is experiencing an increase in numbers for the first time in years. In an unrelated story, the restaurant chain Sonic is also experiencing rapid growth in England.

Scattered Brains

I can't help but wonder...

Why would you want to be a fly on the wall as opposed to say, someone hiding in the closet, or crouched behind the bar? If you're a fly, for one, you're probably not going to live through whatever it is you're hoping to see/hear. Also, you'll probably be too busy dodging hands and fly swatters to be able to pay attention to anything else. This saying is only acceptable if you're looking to overhear a conversation between two other flies. Then it's okay to want to be a fly on the wall.

I can't help but wonder...

Why are two of the synonyms for 'crazy' items that can be found in a banana split? Yes, that's right. Nuts and bananas. Why did they stop there? What about cherries and whipped cream? Nuts and bananas are my least favorite of the banana split components, but maybe that makes the most sense for being synonymous with crazy. I also find it curious that we use the word 'plum' to modify crazy. Another fruit? Who comes up with this shit? All of these can easily be replaced with 'fuck' or some form of it, which is my choice for reformation. You're not nuts, you're fucked. And you're not plum crazy, you're fucking crazy. Now, has anyone seen my fucking plum? Oh there it is, right under my fucking nuts. I'm going bananas. FUCK.

I can't help but wonder...

Why is that every time I go to plug something in with a two-pronged plug, I put it in the wrong way? Granted, I never look at the prongs to see which is the fat one and therefore which one should go in which socket, but when I tell you that I NEVER get it right by guessing, I NEVER do. It's a 50/50 shot and I have never been right. It drives me...well, nuts. Fucking nuts. I am to the point where I will yell "WHY?" every time I plug something in. This phenomenon is so far beyond me that it's gotta be supernatural. And if you make me plug something in to test it, it won't work because it just won't. I know it. But this is true. All of it.

A Haiku for A.I.

Allen is coming
Sleeve, could he be the answer?
Nope, no fucking way.

M.I.A.

I'm issuing a few rewards for anyone who can find the following people/groups and tell me WHERE THE FUCK they/he are/is. That's a little confusing...maybe not.

1. The REAL Patriots. I know that Miami is the black hole for New England's beloved team, but give me a fucking break. Brady threw for 78 yards. SEVENTY-EIGHT. Can someone please account for the offensive line's joke of a performance? I know Jason Taylor is good an all, and yes, Belichick even sucks his hog. But the guy posed for a male calendar. Can't someone at least talk some serious shit to this guy on the line and get his head or something? Daniel Graham's hands are still being held prisoner at the University of Colorado and it's got a REALLY TIGHT GRIP ON MY BALLS. I know Maroney is hurt, but how much Kevin Faulk do we have to see over the course of a key game? Bullshit. We had a chance to get in the mix for home-field advantage yesterday. Mission: Failed. Miserably. Come on boys. Please cover against the Texans so I can leave Vegas happy. Most telling lines from family members after the game:

Dad: "Apparently the Pats let the Beverly Pop Warner D-Team play against the Dolphins."

Cousin-in-law Jeff: "Yeah, the Pats and Dolphins switched uniforms before the game."

2. Daisuke (Die-suck-A). They've got until Thursday at 11:59pm to sign his Japanese ass. I'll be on a plane at this time, so make my landing a happy one and wrap it up. WRAP IT UP. Boras is addressing the media from Newport tonight, and I hope to God he has something promising to say about the progress. It does make me a little wary that I know next to nothing about this guy and I want him in a Sox uniform next season in the worst way. I guess it's good that Schilling is taking Japanese lessons, but they do have a Japanese set-up man as well. Also missing: a closer. Gagne is now a pipedream because the Rangers have taken then lead in that race. Maybe they'll bring Jeff Reardon out of his retirement, which he's spending in a room with no windows and no light. All the best, Jeff.

3. My boy B. I know you've had some serious school work to do, but DUDE. 6 Humboldt is missing you, man. Get your shit done and rejoin the human race after we return from Vegas. We will be doing MANY shots of Patroooooooooon for you, my man. Many. OGY.

4. My condoms. Although, I know where these have gone. The Uncle's b 'n' b is over tonight and I am leaving the vicinity for the sake of my ears and my body; I fear the reading on the Richter scale (Richter?) during tonight's cage match. She's a screamer, everybody. My fingers are crossed for the schoolgirl outfit, Tubs. Maybe your support of the Japanese condom manufacturer Kimono will get to the ears of Daisuke and he'll be so moved that he'll sign tonight. No good?

My prayers tonight are with Muhsy, because I need him to collect 27 points for me to have the top point total of the week. If he doesn't, this honor will lie in the deserving arms of the Uncle. Also, I'll be praying that the Vegas 4 make it back safe and sound on Monday morning, pockets full and minds in one piece. Do you think it's possible to play smart poker on shrooms? Hmm. Hope so!

It's Friiiiiiiiiday! Ain't Got Shit To Do!

I got all nostalgic in the car this morning, as I listened to 'Hola Hovito' about 7 times in a row on the way to work. That, by the way, is easily my favorite Jay tune. The fucking beat is just glorious. Anyway, I'd like to reminisce a little bit on this brisk and blustery Friday morning in Boston.

I love watching college basketball, and I do believe that more parody exists at this level than in any other sport. This is why the logical man never wins the bracket pool in the office. It's always someone; somehow it ends up being a female, who knows relatively nothing about any of the teams. Rather, she uses her own version of logic which entails such rationale as "I'm picking USC over Minnesota because it's soooooo nice in California", or perhaps something like "Hmm, Murray State or Tennessee? Since my boyfriend Allen's last name is Murray, I choose Murray State!". And then the Racers end up knocking off a team that was every analysts sleeper. I would have picked Tennessee in that game because Bruce Pearl wears that sick orange blazer.
Back to parody, though. It runs rampant in college bball. There are too many unknown players who end up having an impact on a team. There are too many great coaches in America who are underestimated in a given year because they had a shitty recruiting season. And then there's those teams that you just can't account for when it comes to their success. There's that team that has no fucking good reason for being where they are, but somehow they're there (Bucknell?). They've got a solid, white point guard, a sprinkle of semi-talented high school standouts and some old-as-shit coach who runs the three-man weave before every game to prep his guys. But they find a way to win. I can't wait for March.

Here's what college basketball needs: the next Fab Five. Was there anything better for a sport than a starting lineup of five freshmen that were so fun to watch that I used to record their games? Every last one of them had something to offer me. Jalen was and is my favorite player of all time. Webber was big, strong and powerful with an attitude, Howard provided the height needed at center and a very solid inside game, Jimmy King was silky on the breakaway and had a nice J and Ray Jackson could D up anyone in the country. And they were 18 years old. 18. The year they stole my heart, I asked for the official home uniform for Christmas. You gotta understand, when I was 13 the only things I cared about were Michigan basketball and Notre Dame football. I had the Michigan catalog delivered monthly as well as Blue and Gold Illustrated as frequently as it was published. I knew about ND recruits before the recruits knew ND was interested in them. But I digress...mom came through and I received the real deal Mich. uni under the tree. Jalen's #5, sewn on letters and number and those sick, long shorts. I still have it, as well as his Nuggets jersey (which has been lent out), his Pacers jersey and a 'Michigan Basketball Is Life' t-shirt. To be 13 again.

Anyway...I yearn for the next Fab Five like nothing else. It's impossible not to root for a bunch of guys like that, is it not? It was great for the game, great for the fans and great for the University of Michigan. I cried when Webber took that timeout vs. UNC, but it almost made perfect sense. Their youth eventually got the best of them but they did amazing things together on the court. So until that next Fab Five arrives somewhere, I'll be following my beloved Minutemen under the tutelage of Travis Ford. Mark my words: UMass will be back in the national spotlight by March of 2008. Remember it, take a picture, write it down, I don't give a FUCK. I used to work with a guy who would talk like Chris Tucker every Friday...I miss that, too. A few of my favorite lines for you this Friday:

"Puff, puff, GIVE! Puff, puff, GIVE! You're fuckin' up the rotation."

"What up big Perm...I mean, big Worm."

"I know you don't smoke weed, I know this; but I'm gonna get you high today, 'cause it's Friday; you ain't got no job... and you ain't got shit to do."

"Weed is from the earth. God put this here for me and you. Take advantage man, take advantage."

"Smokey, you know I ain't the smartest man in the world, but, from back here it look like you're takin a shit."

Take The Skinheads Blogging. Take them Blogging.

This is going to be another melting pot of an entry. Honestly, my brain has been so all over the place lately that 1) Richie and I have finally decided on a legit screenplay setting that we are fully planning on pursuing (flight to Vegas will be the first leg of the journey...what an amazing double entendre, no?) and 2) I was finally stumped on a player's number. I don't want to divulge but I feel I must. It was Mr. Levine who ultimately took me down...Mike Vrabel, OSU. The fact that he wore #94 there eluded me in every was possible. Well played, Richard...you piece of shit. I can't wait to take you down in 2K7 on 360.

Anyway, why is it that when you have a word meaning 'full of ____', such as fateful, you lose the 'l' on the end of full--fateful means full of fate. However, if something is void of the given root word, like fearless, you don't lose the 's' on the end. There's nothing better than a good, old-fashioned grammatical or dictional quandary, right? Should I kill myself now or later?

Did anyone watch the C's last night? What a game, WHAT A GAME! It was awesome to see that the Fleet was pretty much ½ full, yet it was still so loud at times! Sorry, but that manufactured noise is such a fucking disgrace to the city of Boston and its fans. Have some goddamn pride. But back to the game...Doc was quoted as saying that this time, they were down for the whole game and almost pulled it out in the end. And if they had, this would have been a huge mental and moral lift for the guys. With all due respect, Doc...shove it up your ass. I don't know what respect is due, to be honest. They blew a 15-point pre-half lead and never looked back. Memphis had been 1-9 on the road this season. Well, welcome to Boston, Grizz. Take our court, have a meal at the Fours on us and while you're at it, have a go with our ladies. Why not?

Tony Allen took his usual offensive game to the shitter last night. A few charging calls, turnovers...just overall deplorable play. I guess PP didn't have the energy he usually does last night. OK, fine. Use him as a goddamn decoy or some shit. He had 9 TO's. Why not let G-Money play 40 minutes and see what happens? If we're gonna mail it in anyway? He's the only reason to watch the C's right now. Actually, Bassy has a real nice stop and pop from the foul line that I'm really fond of. And Rondo...oh, Rondo. Bill Walton made my premonition come true this morning by saying "they had a Hondo, now they've got a Rondo". Thanks Bill. Simply spectacular. Gorgeous, gorgeous shot there.

Alas, there is so much to gain in being a masochistic C's fan. I think. Well, at the very least, you can always get a good seat at the Fleet. (please, no comments about it being the Garden. It's not the Garden) Case in point, La French scored 2nd row seat behind the C's bench for Cleveland on the 3rd. Why i'm most excited: I went to C's-Cavs last year and both PP and Bronbron put up 50. And it went 2 OT's. And Nate and I were on Sportscenter. Oh fucking God Yeah. I'm praying for a close game again.

For Starters...

Ladies and gentlemen, your 2007 Boston Red Sox:

1. Julio Lugo, SS
2. Kevin Youkilis, 1B
3. David Ortiz, DH
4. Manny Ramirez, LF
5. J.D. Drew, RF
6. Mike Lowell, 3B
7. Jason Varitek, C
8. Coco Crisp, CF
9. Dustin Pedroia, 2B

The rotation will most likely be represented by Schilling, Beckett, Matsuzaka, Papelbon and Wake or Lester and for a closer...perhaps Gagne or a player to be named later. Gagne would be a crapshoot, but he's French and if he could get back to pristine form, that's fucking solid. Any day in which I feel remotely at ease with the state of the Sox is a good day. Given my optimism with the pitching, however, the risk of being brought back down to the doldrums and beaten brutally by bad baseball decisions remains high. And my curiousity with what numbers Drew and Lugo would be is gone because we don't have Javy Lopez or Trot coming back. Henceforth, Drew will still be 7 and Lugo 23. I will address my sadness about Trot at a later date...and I sincerely hope he is appreciated wherever he goes. He's the original Dirt Dog, for Christ's sake. (save me your injury babble) Hey, is there anyway Pedroia avoids further comparisons to Eckstein? I hate Eckstein. I'm interested to see what number Pedroia goes with. Of course he had the typical call up number in the 60's last season (64), but I'm thinking he'll take 3 with Loretta gone. We'll see.

I'll conclude today with a little bit of a taste of the response I received from the faux X-mas list of the earlier in the week.

1. My Dad has since sent me two emails containing large-breasted women, one nude and the other scantily clad. The first, he dubbed an early Christmas present and the second, he dubbed a stocking stuffer. Effing awesome, Dad. Nice fucking work.

2. My sister-in-law found it riotous, apparently. But in the email asking me what my inspiration was, she proceeded to go into detail about why she's really depressed lately. Talk about an adverse effect.

3. One of my older brothers told me it was funny, but he got a much bigger rise out of the text message I sent him last Friday with a picture of a Twix Bar and simply the word "Twiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiix!" attached. Didn't see that one coming, but Mike's a weird dude. I guess the apple falls not far...you know what, I'm gonna start using a different cliche in place of the apple one. Umm, how about "the lava doesn't flow far from the volcano"?

4. My mom didn't comment until I called her this morning at work to find out what she thought. I was concerned that she might take offense to the collared-shirt remark, even with the disclaimer. In an effort to make sure she was in high spirits before bringing it up, I pretended to be a parent of a hopeful student at her current employer (local high school) and I inquired about the quality of food in the cafeteria. She saw through it immediately, called me a brat and said she had to go...she'll call me after lunch. Needless to say, I have yet to hear back from her.

Happy Wednesday...once today is over, you are officially more than halfway done with your week. Yes, you are over the proverbial hump, my friend. For the record, I can't stand people who celebrate 'hump day'...especially by ad-libbing off of 'happy hump day' by saying 'happy humping'.

Judy in Cust. Svc.: "Happy humping, Chad."

Me: "Go fuck yourself."

Judy: "Hmm. Bad Wednesday, huh?"

Me: "GO FUCK YOURSELF."

All I Want For Christmas...

Hey all,

Listen, I just want to set a few basic ground rules for Xmas shopping this year in regards to me. I've received some real garbage in the past and I really do not want any repeats of the J. Crew pants fiasco of 2002. Here goes:

Unacceptable gifts:

NO PAC-SUN OR DICKIES PANTS! These things really hug my balls and just make things uncomfortable for me down there. Shirts are fine, but nothing with palm trees or rainbow colors. I AM NOT GAY.

ABSOLUTELY NO COLLARED SHIRTS!!! I don't know how this happened, but ever since I graduated college, Mom has thought it necessary to only buy me collared shirts for Christmas. The one year I opened a box WITHOUT a collared shirt, she actually took it back from me because it was mislabeled and should have been for my brother. So if you are a decent human being, NO COLLARED SHIRTS!!!

Acceptable gifts:

Natural drugs (nothing synthetic, like acid, or meth or something. Mushrooms are fine, pot, etc.)

Booze is ok, but no wine coolers. Jameson or Jack Daniels would be good, but don't insult my tastebuds by purchasing the cheap sh*t. NOT COOL.

Cash is always good. However, stay away from the $20 in the money envelope. Way overdone, folks. Be a little more creative, maybe like putting a $100 in between the breasts of a stripper and sending her to the house to deliver my gift. Wish I had thought of this years ago.

A fail-safe gift would be of the stripper variety, but a little more festive. To be sure I am fulfilled at Xmas, send a hooker to the house for me. BE SURE YOU PAY HER ENOUGH, or else it could turn into a really bad gift. I'm thinking like a grand or so..that should cover all the bases.

I hope this helps you guys out in finding me the perfect gift for this Xmas. So you know, I will be sending out another list come the Spring so you can best prepare for my birthday gifts. Happy Holidays and if you show up with any of the 'Unacceptable' gifts on Xmas, there will be serious consequences.

This One Is Really Not Worth Reading. Seriously.

I'm going to explore the many different ways of telling someone that there's more to what you're saying, but you're not going to go into it fully. To avoid confusion, let's jump right into it.

"...and all that jazz..."- Maybe it's just me, but this phrase coming out of a man's mouth kind of kills me. I don't mind my mom saying it, but it's pretty emasculating. Try it sometime when you're talking to one of your boys and see if he doesn't look at you in a disturbed way, or maybe even hit you.

"...yada, yada, yada..."- This one is fine, but it's not for me. I'm not Jewish. Many of my friends are and it's used fairly frequently around me. I feel like the Jews have the most religion-specific words/phrases that they have jurisdiction over.

"...blah, blah, blah..."- the most logical replacement for the previous. But much like the first one, it's fairly emasculating. Well, I think it's most emasculating if you employ the eye roll along with the phrase. Throw in a flimsy hand motion and that's it.

"...and so on and so forth..."- I like this one second best because I feel it's the most intelligent-sounding of the bunch. That being said, I still don't really use it because I have a favorite that I haven't mentioned yet.

"...and shit..."- This one is clearly the best. It's short, sweet and to the point. It shows that you're not a man who messes around and it demands respect and shit. I highly recommend it.

I'd also like to report on my eventful night of sleep last night. I woke up several times thinking that I was at La French's apartment and it really freaked me out because I would have been alone at her place. Where would she have been if I was there alone? Freaky and shit. I also forgot to set my phone alarm last night, so I did not have the distinct pleasure of being woken up by REO's 'Take It On The Run'. Instead, I snoozed for 90 minutes and had to forego a shower. And I saw a spider on my alarm clock the first time I went to hit snooze. The Uncle knows what I'm talking about when I say that I saw a spider, because this has happened before. The only thing is, it usually happens following a hazy night. And I had no haze last night. What's fucked up about these spiders is that they're flourescent green and I'm too incoherent upon waking to realize that spiders are not the same color as the numbers on my alarm clock. So I spent about 45 seconds this morning trying to 'flick' this spider off of the alarm clock. Needless to say, I failed and I had to wait until he left. Apparently he's afraid of light because as soon as I flipped the light on, he fled the scene. I was very happy about this, and at that point I could carry on with my day of doing nothing, eating greasy food, and so on and so forth. (see? it's a little too formal)

Well, it's Friday and for that I'm sure we're all very thankful. Enjoy it, have a safe one, don't get too drunk, blah, blah, blah. And Tubby, just really get after it tonight. I mean, really just give it to her, would you? Jesus.

A bientot.