Nothing Like a Big Turd in the Punchbowl!!!

So I'm up late last night, watching TV instead of doing anything at all towards the pursuit of some sort of semblance of a meaningful existence (as usual), and I come across the film Philadelphia on the Logo channel, which I believe to be a network that is programmed to appeal to the homosexual community (this concept of "community" based upon race, sexuality, and such is a complete farce, but that's a rant for another day). Anyway, it's a pretty damn good flick... hell, with Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington, you could make a film about lint and it would be terrific... so I park it on Logo and set myself to enjoying the rest of the film. Pretty early on, I find myself annoyed with the frequency of commercial interruption, but hey, I figure gay folks like to shop, so it's totally understandable, but I digress. At this point, it is necessary for me to mention that the film was being shown as part of a countdown called "The Click List"... the top 50 gay-oriented films (I believe Philadelphia was coming in at #41). Anyway... so Logo was periodically running these little animated promos during their programming to promote "The Click List"... you know the kind, you're watching Law and Order and all of a sudden there is a big, flashy graphic in the bottom-right corner of the screen promoting an all-day marathon of The Closer... and a little Kyra Sedgwick is standing on Jerry Orbach's tie, eating a cookie for some reason. Well, the animated promos that Logo was running were something akin to Pong / Breakout... a little blue ball came into being, and then proceeded to float around, bouncing off the borders of the screen, making a "bloop" noise each time, eventually settling into the bottom-right corner off the screen, where it revealed into a little advertisement telling me I could see more about "The Click List" if I logged onto Logo.com. Pretty obnoxious as far as that sort of thing goes, BUT... what made it really terrible was the fact that they chose to run it over the scene in the hospital room, right when Andrew Beckett, his health failing fast, tells his partner Miguel that he is ready to die... "Miguel... I'm ready... BLOOP! BLOOP! BLOOP-BLOOP! BLOOP!" Then... at the conclusion of the film, when they are at the wake, watching old home movies of Andy as a child, here it comes again... BLOOP! BLOOPITY-BLOOP! BLOOP!

Absolutely awful... way to ruin the moments, you silly people!

Hey, ladies... it's "Man's Best Friend"...

A dog is a pet. A dog is not an accessory. A dog is not meant to be carried around like a purse. A dog is not meant to be carried around in a purse. A dog is a living thing, dependent upon you for food, shelter and love. A dog is not something you carry around because it matches your earrings. A dog has the need, just as you do, to relieve itself on occasion during the course of each day. A dog cannot do this when it has been stuffed in your favorite Coach bag. Please, ladies, get over yourselves and let your dog be a dog.

My thanks to the leathery old broad I saw toting her poor Pomeranian into Walgreen's this morning... thank you for prompting me to get my feelings off my chest.

I got plenty of nothin'... and nothin' is plenty for me (or "How Giggles the Orangutan Learned to Love")

Well, screw me!

The day begins... the sweet serenity of slumber suddenly shattered by the shrill chirp of the digital alarm clock... blasphemy mumbled under my breath. GOOD MORNING, WORLD!

What's that thing called??? Ummm... BREAKFAST! THAT'S IT! I wonder... is the twenty minutes of preparation and the fifteen minutes of clean-up for five minutes of actual dining (and a subsequent case of the trots) worth the effort??? Take a leak and back to bed...

I take my leave of sleep's blissful embrace for a second time today... my desire for rest now well-sated, I realize my lips are pursed, forming a smile that says, "At this moment, I don't have a care in the world." STREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH... absolutely orgasmic! 12:47 postmeridian... GOOD AFTERNOON, WORLD!

BREAKFAST! Wait... other than IHOP patrons, who the hell eats eggs in the afternoon? Okay, nuke a couple of veggie burgers, slap on some American and stuff 'em in buns (nice and fluffy buns, with sesame seeds, of course). Let's see... five minutes prep, five minutes clean-up... shit. PIZZA DELIVERY!!!

Hello, tele! Infomercial, infomercial, that infomercial with the two chicks with the huge cans, Law and Order, Law and Order: SVU, CSI: Miami, Law and Order: Criminal Intent, infomercial, CSI, some show with Neil deGrasse Tyson (that guy is pretty smart), that cooking show with the Italian broad with the huge head... and huge cans (that aioli and egg carbonara looks damn good... so do those cans)... PIZZA'S HERE!

Damn, I'm stuffed! I should've gone a little easier on the red pepper flake... I'm gonna pay for that later. Ah, post-meal lethargy gently washes over me like a warm wave... think I'll rest my eyes for a spell. This sofa is quite comfy...

What the... 8:14 postmeridian??? GOOD EVENING, WORLD!

Man, a beer would be really good right about now... I could run down the road to the Lounge for a couple of pops. I think this is one of the nights that MILF-y bartender gal works... she's actually quite the lovely lass. Alas, Mr. Drunk-in-Perpetuity-Guy-that-Always-Calls-Me-Doug will be there, I'm sure... I'll give credit where credit is due... his festering presence at the end of the bar is almost a certainty, and there are precious few of those in my life these days.

Greetings... my name is Ted, not Doug, dude! Looking very sexy tonight... I'm sorry, very sexy tonight, MA'AM (now give her a wink)! Beer, bullshit, darts, more beer... blur.

1:53 ante meridian. Better leave the car here... besides, a sauced saunter home might actually be somewhat pleasant... it is nice out. GOOD NIGHT, WORLD... YOU SORRY SONS-OF-BITCHES!

My bed beckons... soft, warm and safe, but it will have to wait a bit... shit, I should've gone easy on the red pepper flake!

Well, screw me!

These are the times that try men's souls

So it has come to this...

Due to concerns of both a personal and pecuniary pith, I am officially "on the wagon". I, who during the course of my adult life, have been referred to by numerous nomenclature of an intoxicated nature, such as: "Forty Ounce", "Drunky McKeg", "The Abyss", "Alcohol's Event Horizon" and so forth. Now, I embark upon my journey down a long and droughty road... a parched path devoid of my favorite indulgent elixirs, but lined with my myriad former mates-in-drink, whose still jubilant and jocular spirit-fed spirits serve to concurrently mock and tempt my newfound resolve.

Why, you may ask, choose dry? Well, it is simply an election born of necessity. This coming September, late in the month, I, along with family and friends, will embark upon a journey across the big pond to Bavaria's brilliant gem: Munchen, Deutschland. For the second time, I will be frequenting the Theresienwiese to hoist a masskrug or twenty as I celebrate Oktoberfest. Alas, as part of my preparation for this glorious pilgrimage, there are two major endeavors I must undertake: First... save some freaking money. It would probably be good to have some food in my belly with all the helles I'll be inhaling, and food costs Euros, gang (Dear Lord, please let the exchange rate rebound quickly). And second, speaking of my belly, I'm gonna need to drop about forty pounds if I have any prayer of fitting comfortably in an airline seat for the lengthy flight to Europe.

Well, there it is, folks... ten weeks to save a few hundred bucks and drop a few dozen pounds. So I now bid a tearful, yet temporary, adieu to my dear friend alcohol. See you in September, baby!

For the glory of sport and the honor of our teams...

As we find ourselves just over a month away from the lighting of the really big torch that will signify the commencement of the Games of the XXIX Olympiad (being held in scenic Beijing, China, don't ya know?), I've found myself watching more and more Olympic qualifying events. Not because I enjoy this sort of television viewing, mind you, rather it has been nothing short of inescapable for the last fortnight. Particularly prevalent amongst this genre of programming have been broadcasts highlighting the endeavors our country's finest aquatic and track & field athletes. In the course of "enjoying" these events, I've taken notice of something which strikes me as being just a wee bit puzzling... the attire of our aspiring Olympians. To be specific, our swimmers seem to be wearing a whole lot of clothing these days, while our runners apparently find a competitive advantage in partcipating almost in the nude. Please see below, some visual aides... the first featuring the natatorium dwellers; the second, a portrait of the folks that like to run around in circles (well, ovals... or sort-of ovals, I guess)...





Now if that don't just about beat everything you've ever...

Hell, as far as I'm concerned, they should go back to doing it the way the ancient Greeks did it... everybody competes totally nekked!!! That would be especially fun during events such as wrestling, gymnastics and, most of all, fencing!

DEMONIC RAISINS, I REBUKE YOU!!!

Okay, folks... just thought I'd take a moment to list a number of topics that will never be discussed here in my little playpen o' pontification...

--Lindsay Lohan's boobs

--Joba Chamberlain joining the Yankees' starting staff

--The DaVinci Code (book OR film)

--Britney Spears' vagina

--"Dancing with the Stars"... hell, ANY sort of reality television, for that matter

--Kanye West's impact on hip-hop

--The great Hummus vs. Baba Ganoush debate (Hey... you can't go wrong with either one!)

--The New York Times

--People who put themselves, or aspects (physical or spiritual) of their being, up for auction on eBay

--My unhealthy obsession with tapioca pudding

--Gas grills

--Nicole Ritchie's Auschwitz-looking ass

--The films of Will Ferrell or Judd Apatow

--New Hampshire

--The German political party: Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (SPD)

--Hummers (the automobile, I mean. Fellatio is always fair game)

--Mennonites

--David Letterman, post 1995

--Miller beer products

--The Council on Foreign Relations, the Trilateral Commission or the Bilderbergs

--Arena football

--Canadian football

--Australian-rules football

--Brownies with walnuts in them

--Anything about Paris Hilton (other than news of her meeting with an unspeakably horrific demise)

You've been warned... don't try me, you bastards!

TILLY AND THE WALL!!!

This is about the coolest thing I've seen musically in a long time... a long time. Please enjoy Beat Control by Tilly and the Wall...


Beat Control from Team Love on Vimeo.

I will be in attendance when they play Houston on July 18th!

Truly, THAT'S Entertainment!

So...

I go with my good buddy Martin to catch a movie the other night. There wasn't really much showing I hadn't already seen that held any interest for me, so I told him what films I had yet to take in and deferred the selection to him. Martin, a comic book fan dating back to the days of his youth (of course, I guess it would be a bit odd to suddenly become a comic book fan at some random point in one's adulthood), chose The Incredible Hulk as our evening's entertainment. Hey... great, no problem! I have never really been into the Hulk thing over the years, but I certainly have no objection to two hours of mindless fun and some cool special effects. Plus, I must admit, I was a little intrigued to see a film that had previously been made only five years earlier (2003-Universal Pictures' Hulk, starring Eric Bana, directed by Ang Lee)... was another "interpretation" really necessary after only half a decade??? Anyway, I was right about a couple of things... the effects were pretty good... and it was certainly mindless. It wasn't bad, but I won't be renting the DVD when it hits the shelves. It got me to thinking about what exactly constitutes contemporary "entertainment", and it how compares to what delighted movie-going audiences in days past. Take this clip... an impressively precise, yet playful dance number featuring the legendary Fred Astaire and the (very regrettably) seemingly mostly forgotten Eleanor Powell. It is from the film Broadway Melody of 1940. Enjoy!



Absolutely fan-freaking-tastic!!! Quite honestly, that short little clip, all two minutes and change of it, is endlessly more entertaining than the last five theatrical releases I've seen... COMBINED! And Eleanor Powell... what a babe! No CG special effects... no $200 million budget... no crying Liv Tyler... just a couple of extraordinarily talented entertainers, hoofin' it like few have hoofed before... and certainly since. C'mon Hollywood... how about a nice "golden age" revival?

Yet Another Helpin' o' Haiku

My good friend Adam (he's Jewish, by the way... necessary background information) celebrated his 32nd birthday yesterday. I sent out an informal invite for a celebratory gathering last night in honor of the occasion. As a part of said invitation, I composed some birthday inspired Haiku... and now, I share it with you!

There is plenty left,
So have another slice of
Gefilte Fish cake.

Bright, pretty candles!
Friends, gifts, sweets and smiles! Now it's
Spank-O-Rama time!

With age comes wisdom,
Or so it is said. Adam,
The contrarian.

Wisdom Nuggets... NOW MADE WITH WHITE MEAT!!! (and mostly skin-free)

--Failure is not an option. POPPYCOCK, I say! Always, ALWAYS, leave failure as one of your options. It's pretty handy sometimes.

--Why shake when you can hug? Why hug when you can kiss? Why kiss when you can grope?

--Monkeys, flatulence, the Amish, phallic foods... all inherently funny!

--The curveball has a plethora of cool nicknames: the hook, the deuce, the hammer, the bender, the yakker, Uncle Charlie

--If you want to keep a secret, tell only those that you trust unfailingly... then murder them all.

--Sharp, pointy items, such as needles, pencils and Lara Flynn Boyle, should be kept away from the eyes.

--Without trust, love is bound to fail... so be sure to snoop around in your significant other's personal effects... email, call and text logs, pockets of dirty clothes, etc.

--An individual's choice of celibacy is noble... and it's no less noble when it's been chosen for you, damn it!!!

--Chicks dig the long ball! While true for baseball and golf, this doesn't apply so well to tennis.

--Blessed are the meek... Ignorance is bliss... I guess life is grand if you're a stupid pussy!

thirtysomething

Remember the TV show from the late 80's-early 90's? Well, neither do I... I never watched the crap. That's neither here nor there... and frankly, I'm not quite sure why I brought it up to begin with. Anyway...

So, I turned 35 years old yesterday... right smack-dab in the middle of my 30's, in other words, thirtysomething. Oh yeah, that's why I brought it up. Anyway... I worked, just a nondescript day... yet another infinitesimal sample in the discrete-time signal that is my life these days. Afterwards, some of us went out in honor of the occasion (my friend was kind enough to put together an informal little gathering, despite my insistence that I didn't particularly care to do anything). We had some beers, listened to some live music, enjoyed some intelligent discourse on a number of matters, including poop, sex, work and poop... all-in-all, quite a nice time. When the time came for me to call it a night, (in other words, when everyone other than me had left) I ran by the friendly neighborhood Taco Bell late-night drive thru, then back to the house. And now the payoff, the reason I felt compelled to retch up all this background tedium! I awoke this morning, my arm draped above me, with the back of my hand resting on my forehead... and as the fog of a drunken evening's repose began to dissipate, I discovered that in my hand was a half-eaten burrito, now a cold and congealed remnant of my early morning mess. Yes, I had fallen asleep / passed out while in the act of devouring my alcohol-absorbing aliment. Fabulous...

So this is what has become of my life... I'm 35, single, fat... and sleeping with a half-eaten bean burrito on my melon. America... truly, I am living the dream!

Holy Haiku, Batman!!!

Summer... you are here!
Or so it seems, as a child
Would drown in my pits.

From deep, up it wells,
Needing, yearning to burst forth-
Gas... what sweet relief!

Fudge, fudge, fudge, fudge, FUDGE!
Man... OH, MAN... how I love fudge!
My head is on fire.

I was so alone...
Mr. Unpredicatble
Bladder's bound to be.

Beer! Can't stand the sight!
Down the hatch and out of mind...
Another one, please!