On the way into work this morning, as per the norm, I was listening to Fox Sports Radio, despite the fact that I've mentioned before that, without Tony Bruno, the "Morning Extravaganza" is a giant load of crap. That being said, a "giant load of crap" is still better than Sporting News Radio's Murray in the Morning program...Seriously, the idiots on THAT show talk about absolutely nothing more than they talk about their own meaningless lives, which is damn near all of the time. It's mind-numbingly pathetic, but back to Van Earl Wright and the other two losers on the Fox radio show...

Well, maybe some background first...

In case you weren't aware, on Monday night, the Bengals ended up beating the Broncos. During the first half of the game, somewhere between Bernie Kukar's alzheimer-induced antics, John Madden droning on about how he did things when HE was coaching, despite the fact that nobody gives a shit, and Al Michaels' self-serving "I love Cincinnati because they love me" bullshit, George Foster (who is a Denver offensive lineman) put a block on Tony Williams (who is a Bengal defensive lineman) that apparently is now "the block felt 'round the world." Foster blocked low, employing what is commonly called a "cut block," in an effort to knock Williams off of his feet and prevent him from pursuing the play. The block happened to break Williams' ankle and end his season. In addition, this particular block began the all-star cavalcade of pathetic whiners and other hindsightful morons who claim that Denver, as a whole, is a dirty team. Two of the whiniest of the whiny assholes on this bandwagon are Van Earl Wright and Andrew Siciliano, who are featured on the same Fox Sports Radio morning show I spoke of earlier...

Van Earl in particular was SO VOCAL about the issue this particular morning, I worried that he might pass out if he didn't SHUT UP to take a breath. He and Siciliano decided that it should be their personal mission NOT TO LET ANYBODY LISTENING FORGET WHAT HORRIBLE CRIMES GEORGE FOSTER HAS COMMITTED AGAINST ALL HUMANITY! NOT NOW, NOT EVER! Christ, they were so angry about it that I wouldn't have been surprised if they started calling George "Osama Bin Foster" and comparing Williams to the World Trade Center. It got close, though when the sickeningly self-righteous Van Earl, who probably strained his vagina because he WAS so angry about the whole thing, decided that George Foster and the (vaunted) Denver Broncos offensive line is now the biggest problem in sports, if not in the whole wide world...

As if this weren't bad enough, other jackasses have crawled out of the proverbial woodwork to pile on as well, including Jeff Fisher, head coach of the Tennessee Titans and Steelers head coach Bill "My players cut block too, but that's not a problem" Cowher. All in all, it's just sad that one block, which IS legal by NFL rules, had to end so unfortunately for both Williams and, now, for Foster...

I should add in here that Foster WAS visibly concerned for Williams after he went down and that he stayed by Williams until he was carted off of the field. I'd venture to guess that Big George never meant to do anything more than knock Williams down, something that is commonplace during run blocking plays. The fact that Williams' ankle is broken and his season is over is unfortunate, but it's nothing more than just a matter of consequence. It's not something to get upset about and it's certainly no reason for an uprising. CALM THE HELL DOWN, MEDIA PEOPLE! NFL players get hurt, sometimes seriously, in every game of the (NFL) season! Just about every team employs the cut block because, newsflash you self-righteous idiots, IT'S PERFECTLY LEGAL! Williams wasn't engaged with another player when Foster took him down and he certainly wasn't defenseless...

I seem to remember that, in 2002, when Warren Sapp laid a truly vicious block on Green Bay offensive lineman Chad Clifton, who WAS in a defenseless posture, broadcast types and other assholes crawled out of that aforementioned woodwork to DEFEND Sapp, not to condemn him. One of their main arguments was that, since there was no penalty called on the play, it couldn't have POSSIBLY been DIRTY...Well, geniuses, no penalty was Called on Foster either. Foster employed a legal block on an opposing player during a continuing play which said opposing player COULD have had an effect on. Sapp, on the other hand, went helmet-to-helmet on a player who was not only NOT looking in his direction, who was completely out of the play and had relaxed, thereby rendering himself defenseless. Sapp's hit ended Clifton's season with a hip injury, but Sapp was widely defended afterward. I guess that if George Foster were more of an asshole to the press, or if he talked to the press at all, he wouldn't be being attacked as vehemently as he is now. I don't quite get it...

I guess that, in conclusion of my little tirade towards Van Earl, Andrew and the rest of the contemptable jackasses that see fit to villify George Foster for inadvertantly ending someone's season and, as a whole, would condemn the Broncos' organization as "dirty" and "cheap," I could actually quote Warren Sapp..."If you're so tough, put a jersey on!" Injuries, whether you like it or not, ARE A PART OF FOOTBALL! SO WHAT IF WILLIAMS' SEASON IS OVER? SO WHAT if Denver cut blocks? So what if you feel that it shows a lack of respect? None of that matters! The play, and the block, was, and is, legal...Many teams employ it, many teams will continue to employ it. If YOU feel it's dirty, YOU lobby to change the rules. And, oh by the way, if you don't like it, you are cordially invited to SHUT THE HELL UP about it until the rules ARE changed. Oh, and also, before you accuse the Broncos of being dirty, take a good long look at whatever team YOU support...You might be unpleasantly surprised at what you find...Thanks...

Labels: misguided rantings, sports

And I don't even have a costume...When I was a kid, I would start planning my costume weeks, if not months, in advance. OH HOW SAD MY YOUNGER SELF WOULD BE TO SEE ME NOW!..

In my defense, I WILL be dressing up as a hockey goalie on halloween, but that's because I'll be playing....Hockey...As a goalie...Anyway...

I WAS gonna be a "vortex." You know, dress head to toe in black, with some random objects adhered to me. I would then walk around taking "stuff." That's what a vortex does...It sucks...Things disappear...

Yeah, never mind...

Last Halloween, I dressed up as Indiana Jones...This was, in fact, a reprisal of what I was when I was 10...The saddest thing was, I had lost some of the components of the costume in the 20 years since and, as such, was forced to substitute a sassy little Mary Kate and Ashley purse (which I modified with a rifle strap) for Indy's pouch...It all worked out and, luckily, I still can wear the pants and shirt when I dress up to go for fondue or whatever...

So what are YOU people doing for Halloween?

Labels: hockey stuff, holidays, lame stories, sports

So today, at lunchtime, I went with Collin to possibly purchase a low-cost lunch that would appeal to me more than the frozen meal that I had brought. In addition, I wanted to see if I could pick me up a copy of Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, since Collin, ever the pre-orderer, had played it already and told me that it "rocked" and also "was cool." Before we could pay a visit to any video game retailer (or food retailer, for that matter) we had to make a stop at the palatial offices of Colorado Springs Utilities so that Collin, who either misplaced his bill or had it stolen by one of his deviant children (or a ghost-cat), could pay his bill, lest he be left in the dark (with no heat).

Hey, it's getting cold at night this time of year...Having your utilities cut off would suck...

Anyway, when we arrived, I went into the lobby with Collin but, having no vested interest in finding out how much he pays for his utilities, I took a seat in what appeared to be a "designated waiting area" while he tended to his utility business. There were 12 (or more) identical seats in this "waiting area," arranged in a sort of 3-sided square, facing the main reception desk. Given my range of choices, it would seem that the odds were against me choosing poorly, one seat SHOULD be just as good as another, right?

Heh...You'd think...

As Collin went up to one of the "teller windows" to pay his bill, I took in the sights, as it were, in and around the lobby. There were numerous people going about their day in what appeared to be a clean, comfortable and non-threatening environment...Suddenly, I was distracted by a noise to my right. When I turned my head to see what this "noise" was, I felt the unmistakable (also: horrible) feeling of "spider web" on my forehead...

By the way, did I mention that I hate spiders?..

Ever since I was a kid, I've hated spiders. Frankly, to me, they're just flat out repulsive. In fact, big or small, I hate them all. I learned to be slightly more tolerant of the stupid things, having spent a year and a half living in a shitty, spider-infested rental home, but this fact doesn't mean that I harbor a desire for arachnids to travel about on my person at any time during my day. I rationalized that, since this was the first I had felt of this spiderweb, that I surely didn't carry it in with me. I figured that somewhere, probably in my hair (great), was a spider, ready to hitch a ride to whatever game store or fast-food establishment we would be hitting next. Feeling "funny," I stayed as still as I could, figuring that when Collin was done with his...Whatever he was doing...I could ask him if he saw a spider on me...

Damn, I hate spiders...

As Collin approached, being done with his...stuff, I caught sight of the little fucker on the shoulder of my jacket...I quickly sprung out of the chair and gave my shoulder a good whack, which prompted Collin to give me an odd look...I watched as the spider, a medium-sized reddish-brown thing, fell off of my jacket. Although stunned, it was still attached to it's vile webby string which was, unfortunately, still attached to my jacket. Holding myself still in a rather awkward position, I told Collin to "Step on that for me, would you?" Collin replied that he didn't see anything to step on, so I moved a bit in an attempt to make the dirty little freeloader sway some...Soon enough, Collin caught sight of it. Rather than stepping on it, as I had directed him to, he tried to sever the web with his payment stub...Not wishing to have this spider waiting for me the next time that I entered an office lobby, I stomped it good once it hit the floor...

Take that, asshole...

Having dispatched the eight-legged menace, I was now suddenly aware that Collin was not the only person who was paying attention to me in the Utilities office. Most of the people who worked there appeared to now be watching me rather curiously, especially the security officer who seemed to be ready to finally get to toss out some crazy folk if need be. Rather than cause any further disturbance, I exited the building straightaway and got into Collin's car, the license plate of which was surely recorded by the Utilities building personnel for filing in their "crazy conveyance" files. Heh...It's only a matter of time, now, before ol' Collin' gets his utilities cut off...Fucking spider...

Author's note: The trip turned out to be a near total loss anyway, seeing as the little shop that we went into to get the Grand Theft Auto game wouldn't sell me one. He said it had something to do with filling pre-orders...Bah...I'll get the thing from Target soon enough, counter clown...

Labels: collin crap, indignities, lame stories

I've been working on a post, but I'm finding it difficult to finish. I do, however, have this:

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, random drawings, stagnation

Checking my crystal ball (which I keep next to my cashews and gummi bears), I forsee disharmony in Shannon and Aldie's North Las Vegas home...You see, Aldie happens to be a St. Louis Cardinals fan while Shannon, who HAS been known to injure herself hopping on and off of bandwagons, is now a Red Sox fan after having lived in the Boston area for a short while...

Heh...Play nice kids...If my wife and I can survive (albeit barely) a Western Conference NHL championship between the Blues and Avalanche (which the Avs won...Remember that? It was cool.) then you can make it through this...Just be happy it's not the Yankees -vs- the Ass-tros, 'cause that'd of just sucked.

Labels: lame stories, sports

So today, I'm happy...I'm happy because the Boston Red Sox came back...No, check that, STORMED BACK from a 3 game deficit to crush (also: demoralize) the New York Yankees (and, by proxy, the whole of "Yankee Nation," which HAS to be mostly comprised of reprobates and drunks, with the occasional child molester thrown in). Take that, you dirty Yankee fans...Now, don't misread me here...It's not that I'm a fan of the Red Sox, in fact I generally hate everything to do with the American League (designated hitter? screw that!) but you have to understand...Of all the teams in all of baseball, including teams in foreign countries, I hate the Yankees the mostest.

I think that my burning, searing Yankee hatred has something to do with the fact that, in general, New York sports fans have this elitist air of entitlement about them...Yankee fans, due to their record of success, just happen to be the worst of this already vile bunch...It doesn't hurt that there are, simply by sheer numbers, a Hell of a lot of New Yorkers. Unfortunately, there also seems to be a Hell of a lot of Yankee fans currently working in sports broadcasting, which made the comeback by the Red Sox THAT MUCH MORE SATISFYING...Case in point...

During game 4, when the Yankees were no more than clinging desperately to a one-run lead in the 7th inning, I happened to be listening not to the game broadcast, but a sports talk show on Fox Sports Radio. During an update, the "update guy," who allowed some of his gooey, pinstripey Yankee blood to ooze into his broadcast, happily proclaimed that "the Yankees are now 9 OUTS AWAY FROM THE WORLD SERIES!" This sentence was uttered in a manner that suggested that, despite the fact that the game was still going on, the Red Sox were simply there for show...It was pre-ordained that the Yankees would win, so why not hand said victory to 'em right now? Oh yeah, small problem with that...

The Yankees lost...Just like I figured they would...I guess that some of these same asshole sports broadcasters don't learn their history lesson...It ain't over 'til it's over and, also, there's a reason that the games are, in fact, played...I offer, to illustrate this point, NFL Superbowl XXXII, which saw the Denver Broncos take on the Green Bay Packers. Green Bay had, of course, won the Superbowl the year prior and, their stinking quarterback Brett Favre, has long been a personality that these sports broadcasting sycophants have simply drooled over. More than one broadcaster, including Jim Rome (who I'm convinced probably has to be fed and dressed in the morning by his mommy before he can go off and spew random crap into a microphone, all the while not pronouncing his Ls and Rs correctly), uttered sentences similar to: "why are the Broncos even showing up? Why doesn't the NFL save them the embarrassment and hand Green Bay the Lombardi Trophy?"

Well, sports fans, the reason is that the Broncos beat Green Bay. Oh yeah, they also went on to win back-to-back Superbowls. Suck on that, Packer jerks...

But I digress...So the following night, with the Yankees again, no more than clinging desperately to another razor-thin lead, possibly the same update asshole gave an report on Fox Sports Radio, sounding so painfully excited he could have been urinating pinstripey Yankee urine on himself at that very moment:

"The Yankees are now 6 OUTS AWAY FROM THE WORLD SERIES!"

Well, at least this time, the idiot waited until the 8th inning to hand a victory over...Oh wait, um...Yeah, the Yankees lost THAT game too! Heh...

And so, there would be a game 6. I decided to forego listening to "J.T. the Brick" and his incessant self-serving Yankee fan babble (and, of course, avoid the pathetic game updates that would have the Yankees rescuing old ladies from burning buildings between innings, buildings that would have been OBVIOUSLY set ablaze by Red Sox players). No, for game 6, on my way to play hockey, I listened to the actual game being actually broadcast by Jon Miller and Joe Morgan. And while I was listening, A-Rod did his little "slap fight" routine while trying to get to first...

If you're familiar with the incident already, good. If not, well, I'm not going to outline it here, just suffice to say that, after a powwow, the officials made the correct call, calling Rodriguez out for interference and sending Jeter back to whichever base he had come from. Now, I'd say that Jeter, or A-Rod even, acted like the biggest little crybabies during this, and I could go on for a good long while about the fact that, if Joe Morgan isn't just a Yankee apologist, then he's simply not paying attention. He offered more excuses and spin regarding A-Rod's interference at first than...well, someone who would make a lot of excuses. Bad broadcasting, Joe, bad! But, no, we're talking about big giant assholes here and easily THAT award would have to go to that aforementioned pack of shitty little asshairs, the "fans" of the New York Yankees. SUCK IT UP, ALREADY! You dickheads do NOT have the right to throw things onto the field of play just because you fear losing. The lack of class displayed by those sense-of-entitlement jackasses made me hate them even more and, congratulations to them for it, I didn't think THAT was possible...

Oh yeah, the Yankees lost THAT game too...Heh...Enter Game 7...

You know the funny thing about a game 7?..It's anybody's game. Whatever got you to a game seven, whether you're favored or you're the underdog, whether you had to come from behind or whether you "blew a lead," it doesn't matter. Game 7 is, effectively, a one-game playoff. It's a fight for survival. It's for "all the marbles," there is, in fact, to tomorrow if you lose it. If you don't come to game 7 with everything you possibly can, you might as well not come at all...

Before I get into the obvious about last night's baseball game at Yankee Stadium, I should say that what the Red Sox were on the verge of doing ISN'T unprecedented in sports. The Minnesota Wild actually fought back from 3 games down to win a series not once, but TWICE during the 2003 NHL playoffs. So there...

Anyway, unless you're REALLY not up on "current events," you know that the Yankees not only lost game 7, but they had their collective ass handed to them by a more-than-prepared Red Sox team. Personally, I was happy to see it, but you know that already...Still, I'll say it again, I hate the Yankees. It's somewhat satisfying to me when a team that seems to have more money than God buys itself a lineup that simply cannot play together. All of the praise and spin and outright lies from sports broadcasters can't help a team that has no chemistry actually WIN games. It's nice to see that the Yankees finally found players that were, as a whole, really all about the money...Jeter and A-Rod, for me, bring to mind "Leon" from the Budweiser commercials...But anyhoo...

Oh, yeah, about the "curse?" Well, kids, it's not broken yet, the Sox would have to win the World Series for that, so stay tuned...Lots of fun sports drama is just around the corner...I guess that, by some sports broadcasters' logic, at this point, the Yankees are a mere 1,521 outs away from their next World Series...Regardless, they're not participating in this next one...

Go Sox!

Labels: misguided rantings, random drawings, sports

I just went on a MAD commenting spree all over "blogland." I think this is due to the fact that I'm feeling extra "insane" today. Too much rolling around in the ol' cranium, had to let some of it out.

If you found your way here by clicking on any of them comment things, sorry if they didn't make much sense. Cut me some slack, though. After all, I AM insane. Thanks.

Labels: pointless shit, random drawings, stagnation

This, being the third and final Invader Zim DVD release, is (in my opinion) the absolute best of the three. This could easily be due to the fact that I, personally, hadn't seen ANY of the episodes featured on this DVD in their entirety, mostly due to the ineptitude of Nickelodeon. That's right, you bastards, THE BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS! SCREW YOU, NICKELODEON!

*ahem*

Yes, yes, I hadn't seen any of the episodes, so they were all new (and, dare I say, "exciting") to me. I felt that they were all "good," with the exception of The Girl Who Cried Gnome, but even that episode had redeeming qualities. Frankly, my picking apart the individual episodes and lauding praise upon the DVD in it's entirety simply can't do it justice. However, I know that you are now SO INTRIGUED by what I've typed to this point that you have NO CHOICE but to purchase this disc. PURCHASE THE DISC! To sum up, The next time you venture out of your dwelling to purchase entertainment media (preferably at your local entertainment media shop), it would be wise to purchase Invader Zim Volume 3: Horrible Holiday Cheer mostly because I said so, but also because it's near completely awesome. I loved it, A+, yadda yadda yadda.

I also bought this recorded music album at the same time:

Before I start ripping this album to shreds, I should preface by admitting that I am a HUGE fan of Junior Brown. It's my opinion that he may well be one of the most talented guitarists EVER. His prowess with the unique hybrid "Guit-steel" boggles the mind, so much so, that if you see him perform live, you may have trouble believing what you see. Still, you will believe! Junior also possesses one of the richest baritone voices in the music industry, which lends itself well to his pseudo-honkytonk style. Frankly, in concert, he kicks more ass than...Well, a large, fast ass-kicking machine...With extra ass-kicking added after market...

That having been said, the album Down Home Chrome just isn't very good...

One of the things that I've always struggled with, being a Junior Brown fan, is that the quality of the writing on his songs is...Well..."Subpar." I'm of the opinion that corniness and puns only go so far, unless your goal REALLY IS to be a one-hit-wonder novelty artist or an underground artist with a cult following. I'm pretty sure that the ultimate goal is record sales and/or radio airplay...If so, this ain't gonna get it. The album, unfortunately, starts off weak and ends weak. Despite the fact that the guitar and melody on the first track, Little Rivi-Airhead, is fun and catchy, the writing is (again) weak which makes it hard for me to enjoy the song. It Hurts When I do That, which turns out to be a song about a lost pet, has few redeeming qualities (if any). Where Has All The Money Gone isn't terrible, but is quickly followed by Bridge Washed Out, which is another corny, crappy, poorly written song...Redemption for my ears FINALLY comes, however, at track 5, Hill Country Hot Rod Man. Here, the musicianship displayed by Junior is stellar and the song (even the writing) isn't half bad...

Unfortunately, this solid number is followed all too quickly by Jimmie Jones, which is not only the worst chunk of crap featured on this album, it may well be the single worst song ever recorded. By anyone. Anywhere. It's bad. It's corny. It's sappy. It's poorly written. It can offer no good reason for it's existence. It made my brain hurt because I listened to it all the way through. Unfortunately, things don't get much better from there, in fact the album has only one more bright spot at track 11, which is Junior's (awesome) version of the Jimi Hendrix classic Foxy Lady. The song has long been a live concert staple for Junior and also helps to demonstrate his impressive vocal range and guitar prowess. Hardcore Junior Brown fans should appreciate the fact that it's been recorded. This song rocks, but it (unfortunately) doesn't make up for the rest of this schlock-filled waste-of-space CD. Unless you're a hardcore Junior Brown fan, this album will only turn out to be a complete waste of your funds. Foxy Lady grade: A. Overall album grade (from a Junior Brown fan perspective): C-. Overall album grade: D-.

Labels: misguided rantings, mumbling about music, watchin' teevees

I don't have a lot of time to write today, although I wish I did because IF I DID, I would type up a post that could have people completely flabbergasted. (also, wrathful!)

Of course, since it's not gonna happen, why dwell on it. (did I mention "wrathful?) Feh. Anyway, I did want to share this, if only for the fact that it was disturbing, yet funny. I guess shock value is funny.

Yes. Yes it IS funny. But I digress...

I get a metric shitload of spam email here at work. I'm not kidding, I received nearly 1800 from this past weekend alone. I use the built-in Mac OS X mail client, what with it's intuitive junk mail controls and the fact that I simply have little choice otherwise. Most junk/spam gets filtered out, but precious few DO sneak through. When they do, I eradicate them (displaying extreme prejudice) by highlighting and then clicking the "mark as junk mail" option.

That'll show 'em...Bastards...

Earlier today, though, one wee piece of spam mail snuck through AND, through obvious (wee) voodoo and (wee) trickery, fleeced me into opening it and viewing it's vile content. It's (wee) message was simple (and wee!). It said:

There is your last chance to get on BOYLOVE train.

Of course, there was a link to click along with this (urgent) message. I didn't click it, but I laughed. I laughed because, well, it was really very to-the-point. I didn't realize that I had been notified before that the BOYLOVE train was about to head out, I must've just flat out missed it. Perhaps I missed the conductor yelling "All Aboard!" Perhaps I just flat out missed the other attempts to get me to purchase a ticket on such a dubious conveyance...I get a vision of someone receiving an envelope in the mail, marked in large red letters "FINAL NOTICE!" Of course, inside this urgent envelope would be details about the BOYLOVE train trip, accommodations, activities, meals on board and the like.

Heh.

I do know one thing for sure, though...This "train" is leaving the station WITHOUT me on board. And this mail is being marked "junk" right....about....now.

(I'm gonna get some weird ass Google hits with this one...)

Labels: misguided rantings, pointless shit, Spam-A-Rama, stagnation

For those of you who are, as yet, unaware that I (sometimes) maintain and update a "tribute site" of sorts based on Collin's blog which I call Fizzle and Poop...Well, I do. I'm really horribly behind on maintaining it because, lets face it, making fun of Collin is hard work, work that I haven't had a lot of time to do since...well...July...

It doesn't help that he found out about it. Thanks alot, Heather...

Anyway, I have one of those hit counters installed on the page, like I do on this one, and it rarely receives more than one or two hits here and there, but I thought I might check and see if anyone had stumbled across the site via any websearches. Turns out, it's happened. What follows are some of the searches that have landed people at the dead end of the world wide web that is the Bizarro Collin site...

knotraband
Well that's odd...I must've spelled "contraband" wrong in one of my posts. For shame.

www.knotraband.com
hmm...Odd again, this must be some sort of young people's punk rock band or something. I'm not gonna check it out, because I'm old. Also, because I don't like those meddling kids...Feh...

pantsed
Jeez, people! I used the term "pantsed" in ONE POST! ONE! Leave it be...

kia carnival whistle
Is that anything like a weenie whistle? 'Cause...That'd be AWESOME.

knotraband
Ok, I get it. I can't spell. Leave me alone.

jesus martinez chef
Ha! If there REALLY IS a Jesus Martinez out there who is a chef, and if his friends of family read the bizarro post about him...Well...They're probably concerned for his well being. That rules.

what doctor treats popeye elbow
Probably a doctor that operates out of the back of a van...The ironic thing here is that one of the guys on my hockey team has a "popeye elbow" which is the result of a torn muscle. He Even called it "popeye elbow" last week...I wonder if it was him...heh.

them-big-words-anyways
I love this one mostest...

oscar myers weiners mobile
Oh Hell yes. I hope they read the post, too...

someone pantsed, pantsed embarrassed, pantsed all the way, de-pantsed
Why in God's name is this so important to people!? Go "de-pants" someone in your own neighborhood if you're so preoccupied with it! Damn...

www.fat poop.com
I don't know what the Hell's there, but I ain't goin'. No way...

knotraband.com
DAMMIT PEOLPE! I GET IT LAREADY! I CATN SPEL! FCUK YUO!

alice duke
Who?

picture of mice or rat poop
Why the Hell would you search for this? Are you finding little pellets around your home and wondering "are these just boogers OR ARE WE INFESTED BY RODENTS!? I MUST search the web to find out..." See, that's just weird.

All in all, this really makes me want to update the site more often...I'm sure Collin won't mind at all...Heh...

Labels: collin crap, pointless shit, seek-n-find

So last night, in search of CDs, DVDs and other forms of entertainment media, my wife and I ventured out to play the role of "consumer" at some of the electronics and entertainment outlets here in town. At our last stop, the huge new Best Buy store out on Powers Boulevard, we noticed that there was a Wild Oats right next door. Not being a fan of all things organic, and just straight up not being a "hippie," I tend to avoid such activist-oriented retail establishments as the Oat. My wife, though, reminded me that Wild Oats sells, among other things, the baked chips that we like so much. As such I agreed that, since we were so close, We could go in and look around...

All in all, it wasn't so bad. We got 3 flavors of the Guiltless Gourmet chips, I got some Italian soda and some sarsparilla (which is quite tasty) and even picked up some Thai Kitchen fish sauce which, as I explained to my wife, goes well with white rice and meat when paired with hot chili sauce. This, of course, is something I learned from the Vietnamese restaurant that we order from at work from time to time. With all that aside, though, it's now time to get to the meat of this story. A regrettable little snacky item that we picked up and tried to ingest on the way home. A little slice of absolute Hell called a Bumble Bar. I will now show you a picture of the wrapper. IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH, TURN BACK NOW!

Ok, I know, it doesn't look very threatening on the outside, what with it's quaintly "Olde Fashioned" design and it's (quaint) logo that resembles a (quaintly) squashed insect. Notice, though, the immediate overuse of the word "organic." Not only does this "anti-treat" claim to be 100% "organic," but it's also apparently completed some sort of junior college "organic" training course and has been "certified," you guessed it, "organic." The wrapper also alerts us that we are holding an "original flavor" version of the Bumble Bar. I didn't notice any OTHER flavors of this thing hanging around, so maybe these other flavors are implied or "in the works." I dunno...

Right off the bat, I have some problems with this wrapper. For starters, looking at it, you're probably thinking that you could tear it open and enjoy some sort of honey-flavored or honey-augmented treat. At the very least, the product SHOULD contain SOME part of a bee. Ha HA! If this is what you think, the joke would be on YOU, my friend! Flip this package over and you'll find that the (quality) ingredients, while continuing the "overuse of organic" theme, do NOT contain any "honey" of any kind. In fact, this repugnant little slab of shit is "sweetened" through such vile means as "organic brown rice syrup" and "organic evaporated cane juice." Also (organic) vanilla and (organic) cinnamon, both of which MUST'VE been used quite sparingly.

Hold up..."Evaporated cane juice?" What the fuck? the thing contains "sugar air?" Oh, now that just sucks...

Well, anyway, I still figured that I'd try it, somewhat due to the prodding of my wife, and mostly because I remembered that these stupid things were featured on an episode of "Food Finds" on the Food Network. How could something featured on national TV be all bad, right? That Sandra Pinckney chick seemed to like it...

Turns out, she must've been faking it...HERE NOW IS A PICTURE OF THIS PACKAGE'S VILE INNARDS!


So, quick question for ya...Who, in their right mind, would wander into a pet shop, spy one of those birdseed bells and think "damn, if we squarshed it flat, that'd make one fine "people snack?" Liz and Glenn Ward, that's who! These (obviously evil) workers of iniquity piece these small sections of unenjoyable crap together in the (organically beautiful) Pacific Northwest, right before they unleash them upon an unsuspecting public...They also have a kid, but I'll cover that later...First, my experience with this..."thing"...

My wife and I tried this "treat from Hell" when we got into the car for the ride home. The first bite that I, regrettably, popped into my poor, unwitting mouth was also the last. I damn near gagged when I tasted it...The "flavor," if I can even call it that, is akin to a combination of "moldy hamburger bun" and "dirt" with some "organic evil" thrown in for good measure. Certainly not something I'd eat unless I were truly into punishing myself, which, in case you're wondering, I'm really not...Also, due to the fact that this little hunk of shit is comprised of BILLIONS OF SHITTY LITTLE SEEDS, the aftertaste (of doom) lingers for a very long time. In fact, once you start chewing, the seeds seem to explode into every part of your mouth, get lodged in your "soft tissue" (or teeth) and start excreting some sort of nasty goo. It's...It's very bad...

Ultimately, I'm pretty damn glad that we ended up sampling the "Original Flavor" of Bumble Bar. I don't think that I could've handled the "Extra Shitty" flavor or, God forbid, the "Organically Fertilized Soil" variety. Frankly, the only thing that would've improved this piece of horrifying snacking Hell would've been to simply avoid it in the first place. My first clue SHOULD'VE been the gratuitous overuse of "organic." "organic" this, "organic" that...You know what else is "organic?" poop. And that's pretty much what a Bumble Bar is. Disgusting, mouth-torturing palate poop that can offer no sound justification why it should exist, let alone be available for public consumption...

As a side note, emblazoned upon the packaging, is a picture of "Jed," presumably the spawn of the nutcases who produce these "bars." I can only assume that "Jed" is featured to shame us into buying, and subsequently enjoying, the bar. This is because "Jed" loves the Bumble Bar. You see, if "Jed," a mere child who, if he were more like his typical child peers, SHOULD be enjoying sugary sweet snacks, but instead is doing the politically correct hippy thing and (voluntarily) gnawing on a seedily organic Bumble Bar on a regular basis, then, by God, so should you! I've got Two tiny problems with this scenario, though...

First off, OF COURSE LITTLE "JED" LOVES BUMBLE BARS! Bumble Bar sales will most likely put his lazy ass through college on the backs of unsuspecting hippies and self-loathing activists where he will earn a degree in business and probably become the head of a major corporation which will ultimately destroy the ecology in the Pacific Northwest through pollution and clear-cut logging...

How's THAT for irony, you hippie bastards? Wait, where was I?...

Oh yeah, my second problem with this is that the picture of little "Jed" (seen here)

doesn't give me a sense that he's enjoying anything. In fact, his facial expression says "painful bowel movement" more so than "I am currently enjoying the snack food that my parents say is great." I can almost see a little hippie tear rolling down Jed's little hippie cheek. It's ok, Jed. Show us on the doll where the Bumble Bar touched you...

To sum up, if you happen to wander into one of those organic food joints that is staffed by hippies and sells organically organic crap, just flat out AVOID the Bumble Bar. There's more than enough other crap at these stores to hold your interest (and satisfy your appetite). Bumble Bar grade: F-

postscript: when we checked out at the Wild Oats store, we were offered the option of "paper" or "plastic" bags. WAS THIS A TRICK QUESTION!? DON'T PLASTIC BAGS (like the ones I get from Wal*Mart all the time) KILL WILDLIFE AND NEVER BIODEGRADE!? Why would these hippies even OFFER me plastic!? They couldn't fool me, though. After a long pause and an "uh..." or two, I promptly chose paper, a choice that my wife, in turn, made fun of me for once we were safely outside the store.

Labels: I eat food, indignities, lame stories

I've modified a few things on the sidebar as of today. The first is that I have removed the "laundry list" style audio post archive and changed things so that now, if you click on the "Audio Link Archive" image, it takes you to cheese audio which, as suggested by Collin, is a separate blogsite that contains only the audio entries that I have created. I know, not highly spectacular, but I did it and I am sharing it with you. Remember, sharing is caring. I care...Kinda.

Also, I have added the Hershey Bears logo to my sidebar in accordance with the terms of the big Rocket Jones Hockey Whoopass Jamboree. In lieu of NHL hockey, we're using AHL teams for the basis of the impending smack talk. I chose Hershey because they happen to be the AAA farm club for the Avalanche. Viva Bears.

I'm currently working on a post that should encompass all things supernatural. You will like it when it's done. You will like it because my natural charisma commands it. I can't yet say when it'll actually BE done, but that's not really a problem since my charisma distracts you so.

Heh..."Charisma..."

Labels: hockey stuff, pointless shit, random drawings, sports, stagnation

Thanks in part to Derrick Mason's Monday night efforts, I eked out a narrow victory in one of my fantasy football leagues and thanks to some surprise starts by injured players (who were seated squarely on my fantasy bench), I lost in the other. I'm 4-1 in both leagues, though, tied for 1st, but 2nd in points...Not a bad place to be at this point in the season...The big talk at work has been trades, everybody wants somethin', but nobody's willing to give up much...Depending upon how a waiver claim that I placed pans out, I may "pull the trigger," so to speak on a trade that Ray has proposed to me...We'll see...

I've been busy at work, but I see light at the end of the tunnel...Well, actually, I see a real solid deadline, which means that, like it or not, the client kind of has to say "go."

again, we'll see about that...

I've been a bit remiss in my posting this week, but damn, look at Collin! (seriously, take a good look). He goes and says that he'll be taking a "break" and since then he's been posting like a rabid beaver who finally learned how to work the word processor. Also, this beaver would have stories to tell. And it'd be smarter than most beavers. It might also know how to drive a car.

Damn, that beaver would be a fun pet...

Anyway, I've got a direct mail postcard to finish and a lemonhead® sucker to...well, suck on. You all have a fine day...

Newsflash...Frank just gave me some Jelly Belly® brand Jelly Beans. God, I love candy...

Labels: collin crap, I eat food, sports, stagnation, tales of triumph

But...I'm pretty damned sure that the people who found my humble little blog via the following web searches certainly were expecting a different result when they clicked through...Here is a sampling of some of my favorite search terms which people have strung together and found my blog with...

colorado springs july 28 2004 bridge homeless
How convenient that I would speak of homeless folk in Colorado Springs in late July. I doubt that my doctored pictures of transients filled this searcher's needs, however...

telemarketers are assholes
And the awesome part is...They get paid for it.

krunk bunk
Ha! And I still don't know what "krunk" really is!

krauty
At least they didn't add "juicy goodness," or I'd REALLY have to wonder.

linda cohn moron
Glad to know that I'm not the only one who thinks so...

i love vietnamese
Yes, but not in the same way, I'd wager...

calgary rub and tugs
What!? For the love of God, why the Hell are people searching for things like this!? Worse yet, HOW THE HELL DID THIS COME UP WITH MY SITE? Badnewshughes, I could see, but me?

damn the illusion of movement damn it to hell
Now that's just awesome right there.

valupet
Oh, crap...Really?

filled his pants
And you'd want to find this because?..

fuckerpants
Simple. To the Point. Disturbing.

mouse and cheese pinewood derby cars built by girls
Aww, yeah...By the way, Mofos, through Google, I'm number one with THIS query...

+eclipse "cherry chill" cough medicine
To the delight of the folks at Wrigley, I'm sure, I'm #2 through Google here...

Mortal Kombat Dissection Fatalities
Number one, kids. I'll bet that Midway loves me...

how many appetizers should I order for the christmas party
Someone not only asked "Jeeves" this question, but clicked through to me. The answer is simple: none. Let those other ungrateful bastards get their own.

So that's some of 'em...I know it's not nearly as exciting as some of the search terms that you other bloggers get hit with, but it's all I have. IT'S ALL I HAVE!...(sob).

Heh.

Labels: pants poopin', pointless shit, seek-n-find

I could be making up for lost (blog) time, I guess, or it could be simply that if I don't spew some of the following I will, in fact, explode (leaving a gooey, evil mess). Either way, you all are now about to be broadsided by a (possibly incomplete) list of things that I, your humble host, hate with every fiber of my being...

_______
Drivers! When the big yellow sign says that your lane, whether it be the left or the right, ends, just get the Hell over. Hugging the line in denial that said lane is, in fact, about to cease to be does not make you cool, it makes you look like a buffoon.

Drivers who choose to drive with your stereo blasting, shaking my domicile with your bass! Just because you drive around "bumpin'" or "thumpin'" or what have you DOES NOT MAKE YOU HARDCORE. It also doesn't make you a "gangsta." You are NOT a bad ass and someday you will be treated to a first-hand demonstration as to how much of one you are not.

In addendum: wearing your hat, especially one of those mesh-back trucker hats, sideways, backwards or in any way other than forward makes you look retarded. I WILL point at you and laugh when I see you. Deal with it.

Dogs.

Dog Owners! If you feel compelled to own a dog, yet also feel compelled to keep your lawn looking "neat" by walking your dog around so that they may crap on other people's lawns, you are an asshole. When I let you know about your asshole status, deal with it. Also: learn from it.

Political advertising. How stupid do people think we are!? I can see through your bullshit, Ken Salazar!

Celery.

Jim Rome.

Van Earl Wright...Heloooooooooooooo, I'madumbaaaaaassssss! What the Hell happened to Tony Bruno?

Deion Sanders.

Kids who "Street Race!" You are NOT too fast OR too furious. You are, unfortunately, too stupid and will end up making yourself or, God forbid, someone else too dead. Stop hanging out at the Shell station. I mean it.

People who assume. TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, DAMMIT!..

Anise. ick...

People who add carrots to dishes "just to give it some color." Fuck color! I just want the crap you serve me to be palatable! Carrots suck.

Warren Sapp.

"Smooth jazz."

The Family Circus.

Hi and Lois.

People who categorically label George Bush as "unintelligent" while lauding John Kerry as a genius. Just because some newspaper reporter somewhere considered Bill Clinton, or any Democrat, to be "intelligent" doesn't make it fact. Your ability to compute isn't tied to your political affiliation, jackass...Just because you want to be right, or smart, doesn't make it so.

Along the same lines, and contrary to popular feminist and/or liberal opinion, Hillary Clinton is NOT the smartest woman on earth. If she were, she'd be doing something more honorable with her life.

Politics.

Email forwards.

Being pissed off.
_______
Ok kids, there are just a few. Have fun with 'em, but don't get yourself dirty...We're having company over for dinner...

Labels: misguided rantings

So, everybody's doin' it...I might as well too...

John Kerry and John Edwards? you Democrats can't be serious!? The Hound Dog and the Poodle...Man, if they get elected...This country will be in one sorry ass state...

I'm Derek Knight and I approved this message...

Labels: misguided rantings

But, because I like you, here are two drunk Germans celebrating Oktoberfest.

Yes, I have a lot of crap lying around. By "crap," I mean drawings. Either way, it's all I have for now...

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, Illustrations, random drawings, stagnation

Before I impart to you fantastic tales of succulent prime beef, roast Colorado lamb, attentive service and enjoyably strong cocktails, I should preface by saying that, if given the opportunity, I'm considerably more likely to be seen in a crappy diner enjoying a well done hamburger accompanied by onion rings and a chocolate malt than all dressed up at a fine steakhouse. This doesn't mean that I can't appreciate fine things, it just means that I don't indulge in said "fine things" very often. As a matter of fact, the last time that I ate at an actual "steakhouse," prior to this last weekend, was Cleveland, summer of 2003. I enjoyed it immensely. I also enjoyed eating at an actual steakhouse on Saturday...

And yes, Colorado Springs DOES have a good steakhouse. It's called "The Famous."

The Famous isn't new, in fact it opened in 2002. Upon opening it's doors, It was almost immediately voted "best new restaurant," "best steak," blah blah blah by various people and papers...It was also talked about incessantly by the kinds of people I tend to avoid, trendy folk who flock to the downtown area branding themselves "hip" and "cool" simply because they're there and I'm not. (I think it just has to do with the fact that parking is really hard to come by in downtown Colorado Springs. Perhaps that makes it "exclusive." I dunno...) Anyway, I'd heard that this "Famous" was really something, not only foodwise, but pricewise. I'm not widely known for playing fast and loose with funds (unless I have a goalie mask being painted), so forgive me if I didn't run screaming to The Famous to try a steak...Not immediately, anyway...

That all having been said, My father turned 55 this past Saturday. Double nickel. Big time "milestone" birthday. Isn't it? I dunno. Anyway, he had read and heard about the aforementioned establishment and, after digesting the glowing reviews, was ready to digest some of the Famous' now famous food. It didn't hurt that, of course, a birthday dinner is as good of an excuse as any to visit an expensive restaurant. As such, reservations were made for four, on Saturday, at 7:00 pm. My mom, my dad, my wife and myself were scheduled to enjoy the meaty meat delights that such a place could offer...

Slight problem with all this, though...I've been TRYING my damnedest to eat good and lose weight, stemming the fatty tide of fatty fatness. As you may expect, aged prime beef doesn't necessarily fit into such a diet plan. I did figure, however, that such a restaurant SURELY would serve lamb, or lobster or (at the very least) "chicken." I reasoned that I could eat one of those dishes and not feel TERRIBLY bad about the fat content...Still, I was beginning to hear dissent from my own brain, of all places, telling me that, if I were to visit a fine steakhouse, and I failed to enjoy aged prime beef, then I was not really worthy of being there. After much wrangling and discomfort, my brain and I finally reached an agreement. We would wait and see what was offered on the menu before my brain induced any sort meat-fueled embolism.

Soon enough, the big day came. My wife and I met my parents at their home and we all drove downtown together, parking in a $6.00 parking lot and walking (roughly) a block and a half to the steakhouse. On our way there, we witnessed a number of young people dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos. It was reasoned that it was, in fact, a good of a time as any for high schools to be celebrating "Homecoming." Our only hope was that these teenagers would not be joining us, en masse, for a fine meal at The Famous...

Turns out, there are a good number of high school kids who have a Hell of a lot more money at that age than I did...The Famous was packed, and about half of the patrons appeared to be of the high school homecoming variety...Ah well...

We had made good time getting downtown, and found parking much faster than expected. As such, we were about 20 minutes early for our reservation...It was suggested, by the reception girl, that we take a seat at the bar while we waited for our table. It turns out that this was actually a good thing, as we were all able to enjoy a cocktail (I had Knob Creek with ginger ale) while we acquainted ourselves with the surroundings and, by default, some of the food we would soon be ingesting. It didn't take me long to figure out that, at this particular steakhouse, the portions are quite large. Not just big, these were meals that Andre the Frickin' Giant could've been satisfied by, if he hadn't died in that hotel room in 1993. The bartender, a friendly fellow who poured large amounts of alcohol into our drinks, suggested that we look over a menu while we waited. That way, when we DID get seated, we'd have an idea what we wanted to eat.

In addition, we'd know what everything cost...Wow...

When the Famous first opened, one of the questions that was posed by one of our local restaurant reviewers was a simple, yet poignant one..."Is Colorado Springs ready for a thirty-dollar steak?" Well, let me tell you somethin'...30 dollars is actually a STARTING price. If you wish to enjoy succulent delights such as the Maytag Bleu Cheese Prime New York Strip, or the roast Colorado Lamb, you'd be required to fork over nearly 40 dollars (US) for the meat alone...But, like my dad says, "it's only money," right?

Still...40 bucks...Damn...

Eventually, we did get seated and decided that, since it WAS a special occasion, we should enjoy ourselves some appetizers...I offered that I had never tried crab cakes and, since they had them on the menu, we SHOULD try them. My dad agreed and asked our waiter for 2 orders of crab cakes (at 13 bucks a pop, by the by) to be brought to our table. Because crab cakes took longer to cook than other appetizers, we were told, the waiter was going to bring us some bread...

Cool...I like bread...

I should say, before we get too far into my "review" of The Famous that, as one should expect from a fine steakhouse, everything is just a wee bit better than you're used to...Everything has that "we went the extra mile" feel to it...Case in point, the "bread" that our waiter brought. It's not JUST "bread," people! It's wonderful, freshly baked herbed bread with...like...herbed butter on the side! Very enjoyable, this "bread." Sometime between said bread and said appetizers, we placed our dinner orders...My mother, being caught up in the whole "special occasion gorgin' on food frenzy," ordered herself up TWO sides, a loaded baked potato and "skinny onions" which are kind of like "onion straws..." It was apparent that she hadn't noticed the GIANT PLATES loaded with GIANT PILES of these skinny onion things. It sure seemed like a lot of food to me, but what the Heck do I know, right?

So, the appetizer came...Y'know, I've lived here in Colorado all of my life, I should know the rules...Sometimes, though, I break, or forget, these rules and I'm not often rewarded for doing so...The rule I'm speaking of THIS time is "don't order seafood in Colorado." I guarantee, the Famous did the best they could, but the crab cakes were just "not spectacular." They tasted a bit funky, not much like fresh crab. I'll probably hold off until I visit Maryland again before indulging in anything crab-related. Granted, it wasn't "terrible," we just probably would've been better off making a different appetizer choice. Crab cake grade: C-.

A little tidbit of information that you might find helpful if you ever chance to visit The Famous is this...Your steak, or your lamb or whatever meaty treat you choose for dinner, comes with a salad. Sides are extra, a lot extra actually, but your choice of salad is included. The Famous offers a Caesar (replete with anchovies) or what they describe as an "iceberg wedge with tomato slices." Well, I like a good Caesar, but I'm not a huge fan of large anchovies, so I, along with the rest of my dinner mates, chose the caesar, sans little fishies. Soon after we had finished our crabby appetizers, our salads were brought to our table...

First off, I was damn glad that I followed my instincts AWAY from the "iceberg wedge" because, it turns out, that that's exactly what it is...Nothing more than a chunk of a lettuce head with a couple tomato slices on the side. Very odd (I saw one going by our table, this is how I know...So there.) The caesar though, like everything else The Famous serves, is MASSIVE, easily equal to the size of a dinner salad at a chain place like Black Eyed Pea...The dressing was unique and (dare I say) spicy. Everything about the salad was tasty, right down to the croutons. I enjoyed some of the aforementioned "herbed bread" with mine, careful not to fill up on it, knowing that I still had a rack of lamb on the way. Still, it was awesome. Salad grade: A.

It didn't take a long time after we were all finished with our salads for our dinner entrees to arrive. My wife chose the prime New York Strip, I chose rack of lamb, my mother went with Filet Mignon and my dad ordered the Maytag Bleu Cheese New York Strip, which I WANTED, but figured I'd at least be able to sample due to it's massive proportion (Yes, I bravely fought my own brain. I have a headache now, but it was all worth it). In addition to the meat, my mother's baked potato arrived, looking more like a giant log coated in cheese than a potato, as did her giant pile of thin, fried, battered onions. she immediately requested assistance from the rest of us...Of course, we were all more than happy to oblige.

My lamb was very good, roasted to a wonderful medium, served with a strange, but enjoyable, sauce...My dad's steak, which was easily the best entree at the table, was tender, flavorful and succulent. The entire top was covered with a thick layer of melty bleu cheese which, if you've never tried the combination, is truly awesome. Upon sampling it, I regretted ordering the lamb, something that I don't often do. My wife's steak was good, easily the best New York Strip I've ever sampled and my mom's filet mignon was absolutely amazing. I've not tasted meat of that caliber EVER, not even in Cleveland. In fact, if you paired the meat with the onions, things got even better. Dinner entree grade: A+.

The portions at The Famous are so insanely large that, even though we can all hold our own in the feed bag department, we had to get "to go" boxes AND skip dessert, which is a damn shame because the cheesecake looked awesome (again, saw one or two going by). Next time I eat there (and, yes, there WILL be a next time, I'll have to see if they offer easy financing there at the restaurant, though) I will certainly skip the appetizer to save room for dessert. After it was all said and done, our bill (after a well deserved tip for our waiter) came to around $230. Even though that total is more than I spend for two weeks worth of groceries from my local Wal*Mart, and even though there were a number of high school aged kids there trying to act "grown up" but failing, I still think that it was more than worth it. If you ever find yourself in Colorado Springs AND you have someone to impress, even if it's just yourself that needs some impressing, you certainly could do worse than The Famous. High marks from me, one of the pickiest eaters on the planet. Overall grade: A.

Note: Fresh off of his aged prime beef experience at The Famous, the author is currently enjoying an El Charrito frozen meal, and a glass of slightly warm diet Mountain Dew, at his desk...

Labels: 'round town, dad's stories, holidays, I eat food, stuff mom's done

Because I don't seem to have the capacity for original thought, and since Collin did it first and did it well, I changed my header graphic in honor of October...

Boo.

Labels: blatant rip-offs, collin crap, holidays

Ever hear the idiom "too many cooks spoil the broth?" Unfortunately, I'm dealing with that here at work today. Things is hectic! at the very least, things is just nutty enough to keep me from doing anything worthwhile for the ol' blog page today. Still, I feel a tad bit of obligation, so I shall now distract you with a small cartoon I drew that ended up looking slightly like our Commander in Chief.

Enjoy your collective weekends, folks!

Labels: misguided rantings, random drawings