Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Energy Beer

Energy beer?
So this guy tells me he's been drinking "energy beer". I think it was called Sparks...or something like that. Energy beer? Really? Wow...let's break this down, shall we?First of all, apparently this is beer laced with lots of caffeine. OK. Now, to state the obvious, caffeine is a stimulant, right? A beer is a depressant, right? So what have we got with energy beer? A company that has finally, FINALLY, had the balls to legally market a speedball. Congrats. Society has evolved. Hey, why bother with all that heroin and cocaine (or methamphetamine...your call) when you now can get the same thing in a 16oz beverage from the cold case at 7-11? Now you can be shitfaced drunk, AND wired. Awesome. Because, let's face it, if there's something we all want, it's a drunk with lots of energy to just keep on talking! At least with good old beer, at some point they get drowsy and go look for a nice garage floor to take an impromptu "nap" on. 'Ya know?

Anyway, "energy beer" is a total oxymoron anyway. It flies in the face of what beer is all about. Beer has done many a thing to me, but filling me with vim and vigor is not one of them. What beer does is eventually make your sofa look like the most awesome place to be EVER...and once on it, you will strongly consider the idea that you may never want to leave it ever again. Except to urinate...but thats it. So, anywhoo, beer in any form has never inspired me to great heights of manic energy. It HAS however, inspired other things. Here's a short, but by no means, complete, list of such beer fueled inspirations:

-talk much louder than need be. In fact, talk much louder than need be if a 747 jumbo jet was firing up its engines right next to me.
-eat three plates of fried food at 3am.
-laugh at inappropriate things. Laugh at appropriate things. Laugh at everything. Laugh at the fact that I'm laughing...and so on...
-make sexual suggestions to inappropriate people. Make inappropriate sexual suggestions to appropriate people.
-turn the act of lovemaking into such an arduously long affair that even I lose interest in whats going on and start thinking "for the love of god can't we just get this over with?"
-forget that women don't find intestinal gas funny.
-tell obscene jokes (although funny).
-suddenly realize theres no need to urinate in the toilet when theres a perfectly lovely patio and shrubs to fill this task...bonus is lots of friendly people to talk to as you whiz.
-get waaaay too into sports...even ones I dont care about, i.e. suddenly have an opinion about the internal politics of the Latvian badminton team.
-began to realize that despite my first impressions of when I walked into the bar, party or whatever, every single woman in the place, all of them, are kinda hot. Why didnt I notice this before????
-say EXACTLY whats on my mind. This of course has repercussions.
-realize there isn't a form of music I dont like. Romanian hill music as realized through the marriage of Jamaican steel drums and the pan flute performed by Kenny G? Crank it up baby!!!
-think I'm much better looking, interesting, and charming than I actually am...and decide I have a real shot at that Brazilian swimsuit model who is at the bar signing autographs.
-not realize my fly is open...then realize it...and not care.
-if I'm channel surfing and Tombstone is on, and even though I have the DVD and can watch it any old time, and it doesn't matter if its 4am, I will have to stop and watch it (sorry...I like Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer was the shit in that movie...).
-same goes with Pulp Fiction, Caddyshack, Good Fellas, The Big Lebowski, the first two Pink Panthers, and a bunch of others actually...There's more of course, but you get the idea...none of it is exactly in the realm of 'perky'!

Friday, December 19, 2008

Morning Radio

OK, I've been up for 30 hrs. now and am oddly not as sleepy as I should be. So, I thought I'd share some more observations as I drove to Concord early this morning...

-Again...morning radio. I'm tired, I've been up since 4am and am working on a grand total of 45 minutes of sleep as I drive to the Bay Area. All I want is some tunes to distract me from my rather miserable, uncaffinated state. So, do I get tunes? No. What I get is 'morning drivetime radio shows'! You see, these shows, rather than play actual 'music', fill their air time with all sorts of happy and perky chatter. It's always a guy and a news gal on a show called something like 'Venus and DeMilo', and their witty repartie goes something like this:

'Hey Venus, what did you have for dinner last night?'


What kind?'

White meat!'



You're crazy!!! Let's go to the Eagle Eye In the Sky for traffic!!!'

First of all, we don't need a traffic report. It's the Bay Area...i.e. one of the most densely populated places on the planet Earth.'s the morning COMMUTE. Without owning a helicopter to fly over and assess the situation, let me go ahead and tell you anyway what traffic is like on ANY Bay Area freeway on a Friday morning at 7am. You ready? Here it comes...traffic is FUCKED. In fact, scrap the helicopter, because I'm going to tell you what traffic is going to be like every weekday at 7am in the Bay Area for the next billion years. You ready? Here it comes...traffic will be FUCKED...AGAIN. Do I really need a guy in a helicopter to tell me this? Plus, it's raining like a motherfucker outside and, that's right, you guessed it, we're now going to weather.Take it away Bay Area weather guy:

'Hey's raining out there!'

What? Really? I couldn't tell. I thought all the moisture falling from the sky was because God was CRYING, because, like me, He too wanted to hear some tunes but the fucktards on the radio refuse to play any.

Now, as if I'm not now armed with enough valuable information, we're going to get more. You see, these radio shows seem to think that while you may be on your way to work to, oh, I dunno, perform brain surgery, or design the next supercomputer, or teach a college class on philosophy, you really can't be your all until you're armed with some truly valuable factoids. yes, that's's time for 'celebrity news'.

'Hey Venus! I hear Leo DiCaprio is dating somebody new! HAHAHA

'Thats right DeMilo! He's dating a famous person! I'll bet they're totally doing it too!!! Leo DiCaprio is FUCKING A FAMOUS PERSON!!!! HAHAHAHA ISN'T THAT GREAT???

HAHAHA'That Leo is quite the lady killer!!!! HAHAHA Hey Leo...SAVE SOME FOR THE REST OF US!!!!! HAHAHA'

Actually, that's not entirely true, I DID LEARN this morning that Jeremy Piven has mercury poisoning from eating too much sushi. So, armed with that particular nugget, I felt ready to conquer the world. Except I can't...because I'm stuck in Bay Area traffic (Update from Eagle Eye in the Sky:'Commute traffic is still heavy!!!!' Thank you Eagle Eye...what the fuck would we do without you and your intrepid traffic reporting?).

Want to know what stations don't have a lot of mindless chatter? MEXICAN LANGUAGE STATIONS. It's all 'Ooom Pah Pah' all the time. I don't think they even play commercials...well, they might, but I think their commercials sound just like their songs, so it's hard to tell. But, this did lead me to another theory:
Caucasians love the sound of their own voice. Think about it...Republican law makers, morning DJ's, that drunk sitting next to you in the bar, that person you're dating. Constant white bread yammering, right? And trust me, I'm pretty white bread (just call me 'Wonder'), so I know. Hmmmm...come to think of it, maybe 'Ooom Pah Pah' all the time isn't so bad after all.... Pass me a Budweiser, I need to think about this. They COULD be on to something...

*Of course the radio station totally suckered me. When I got to my wit's end and was getting ready to change the channel, they played a new Deathcab For Cutie song which was pretty damn good. So, like the dumbass I am, I continued to listen. Tell me more about that chicken dinner you had Venus, I'd love to hear it...

Friday, December 12, 2008

Ooom pah pah and the Sultans of Swing

OK, so after my graveyard shift I'm making the long drive back to my sisters place this morning and all I want is some music to zone out to. Thankfully, the Bay Area has a gazillion radio stations and you can always find some really cool music to listen to (hell...I heard the Trashcan Sinatras and the Dead Milkmen on the radio the other day...when's the last time THAT happened in Fresno???). So I'm all bleary eyed driving down I-80 and But you don't get tunes early in the morning. Nope. Sorry!!! Know what you DO get? Mindless, idiotic, non-stop BLATHER from BLITHERING IDIOTS (that's right...double whammy...blithering blatherers...). For instance, this morning the disc jockey was offering his opinion on the auto indistry bail out plan. Right. Some pimply faced, FM radio working because he cant get a real job in the entertainment industry, weed addled college drop out who is probably a failed musician who never got laid by anybody with an IQ over 95 or a body mass index below 30 who gets paid to push play on a computer bank of predesignated songs is going to explain to me the ins and outs and answers to a world wide economic meltdown that Ivy League economists with Ph. D's can't figure out (my best run-on sentence yet!). But 'Johnny Lightning on your morning drive' is going to give me all the answers. Thanks Johnny Lightning!!! I was concerned that maybe all the best and brightest in the world weren't going to figure this out, but thankfully the guy who has just played 49 Bon Jovi songs in a row has got it nailed!!! Big sigh of relief here! Whew!

Another thing...besides not getting any cool tunes in the morning, I have to drive east away from the Bay which takes me through a mountain pass...which naturally kills all the radio signals. Actually, thats not entirely true. There is one radio signal that comes through just fine. MEXICAN LANGUAGE STATIONS. Holy shit. That 'ooom pah pah' shit comes through with the clarity like the signal was fired from a trillion watt laser from an orbiting space station. OK, thats not entirely true either. Theres always that classic rock station that comes through just fine too, just so I can hear Dire Straits 'The Sultans of Swing' for the hundred billionth time. Because 99,999,999,999 just wasn't enough! Anyway, this ooom pah pah thing did give me some ideas as to a theory. If you've ever been to a Latino bar, you know theres a ton of beer drinking going on with the ooom pah pah music. If you've ever been around Austrians or Germans, you know how fond of beer THEY are and they too have the ooom pah pah thing going on...which leads to the obvious conclusion: too much beer consumption leads to an unhealthy appreciation of polka music and accordians. So please, during this holiday season, for the sake of your the beer drinking. If you feel the need to don a sombrero or put on some liederhosen, call a cab or get a ride* home. This is how you can tell you've had one too many.

*Was going to make a dirty joke about once you get home if you still decide you'd 'like to have a ride' to give me a call...but that just seemed too tacky...even for me. OK, maybe not, as I wrote it here anyways!

Wednesday, December 10, 2008


-OK, we all know how I am jinxed when it comes to being in line at the grocery store. I swear, it's almost freaky. Last night I was buying a few minor necessities for dinner, and guess what? Yep…cluster fuck on register four. So I'm patiently standing there with my meager twenty dollars worth of shit, hoping to make a quick exit. Ha! Nope! The guy in front of me asks for cash back…twenty dollars to be exact. The cashier rings up the purchase and hands him a twenty dollar bill. He takes his six pack of Coke and bag of chips (and a pack of gum if I remember correctly), and prepares to walk away. The cashier then abruptly shouts "Sir…I'm so sorry! I forgot to add on your twenty dollars cash back to your bill…" Now, instead of merely looking at his receipt to confirm the error, the guy fires back an "Excuse me?" and gives the cashier a look like she's some kind of lying ass whore. Needless to say, resolving this issue isn't going to be easy. The cashier asks the gentleman (I use this word loosely, "asshole" would be more appropriate) to take a look at his receipt to show him the error. He's reluctant to do so. So she produces HER receipt to show him that yes, a three dollar six pack of Coke, a two dollar bag of chips, and a pack of gum, PLUS twenty dollars cash back does not, in fact, equal six dollars and thirty two cents. Of course Mr. Tightass now figures there's some kind of grand Save Mart conspiracy to screw him out of twenty dollars, and now we need to get the manager involved. Sigh. The thing is this dork knew he was essentially trying to steal twenty dollars because he was refusing to look at his own receipt. Just let it go man! I need to get home with my wine! (Cline red zinfandel…not a bad bottle for the money). Fuck no…we're going to have some street theater over this issue! So I stand there with my best "Are you fucking kidding me?" look on my face as the drama plays itself out, and the guy eventually sulks off minus his twenty dollar bill...and his dignity. As for me? I, once again, get the joy of turning a ten minutes grocery trip into a migraine inducing half-hour torture session.

-Speaking of torture session…the holidays. Now, perhaps you think of the holidays as a time of forgiveness and family bonding, or if you're the religious sort, the birth of the earthly embodiment of God, or whatever. It's all good. But driving around the other day, I discovered what the real point of the holidays are: mindless, rampant, head up your ass consumerism. I have never seen so many people driving around not only with a look of panic on their faces (it's the panicky look of: "If I don't blow every penny I have, plus put the equivalent of thirty percent of my of my total yearly earnings on credit buying useless shit none of us need, the…the…the…holidays will be RUINED!"). It actually nauseates me. The fact that we, well, not me, but "them", so mindlessly buy into corporate America's ongoing mantra of a mind fuck of "spend-spend-spend if you love somebody" is pitiful (OK, not really…I do not pity the stupid). Why does society feel compelled to consume? Here's a great example of how corporate America is doing you in the keister, sans lube, and not even a with a kiss on the cheek or telling you how pretty you are: the iPod. We all have one, right? And they all pretty much do the same thing…play music and video files. But guess what? That one you bought six months ago? It's a piece of shit. Want to know why? Because it's white…and now we offer all these cool new COLORS. So, if you're not some totally uncool loser, throw away the one you already have a get a hot new pink one..or whatever. No, it has no new functions…but it IS a cool new color! Come on you typical American retard! Buy a new one! What are you waiting for????? It's a different color for fuck's sake!!!! BUY BUY BUY!!!!!!! It's only money you probably don't even have anyways you fucktard!!!!Sigh. And people do…and it really is kind of tragic. Same thing with cell phones. Hey Mr. American El Tardo. Check out your phone. Does it have a keyboard on it? It does…but they're buttons, right? HA HA HA! You fool!!! You suck! Ha, ha, ha…you probably fingerpaint with your own dung too you monkey!!!! If you were truly an upright walking homosapien, you'd have this phone right here!!! No, it doesn't do anything different than the phone you already have, but its keyboard is on a TOUCH SCREEN. It's soooo totally different. So, unless you want to look like the worlds lamest…uh…."lamoid" (I'm running out of pejoratives here), ditch that actual keyboard for a virtual keyboard. It's only going to cost you two-hundred dollars you don't need to spend, but really, come on…this phone will get you LAID*…so what are you waiting for???? (sound being softly and lovingly whispered in your ear: spend spend spend).

-What is it about the loving embrace of the holidays that makes people drive like homicidal maniacs? In this season of peace and love, people drive with a "I will burn rubber on your larynx, back up, do it again, park on your dick, and then hunt down and vehicular manslaughter your entire family because I need to buy a different colored iPod goddammit!!!! This white one I purchased for my loved one six months ago that has all the functions of the colored ones just doesn't truly express who my loved one is or how I feel about them!!!!! So get the fuck outta my way!!!! Aaaaaaiiiieeeeeee!!!!!!" Anywhoo…there's a whole lot of shopping induced mania out there, and I just wish people would chill. I've never seen so many folks stress in the pursuit of…peace. It's the ultimate dichotomy, and if you have any sense of irony at all, it IS kind of funny…unless of course you're just trying to get to the dry cleaners before you have to go back to the Bay Area and you're stuck behind these holiday tweakers. In that case, it is not funny…AT ALL. I think the ultimate gift this year should be the county lacing the public water system with Prozac. It would do us all a world of good…

-Holy shit is I-80 near Berkeley cold as fuck at 3am. Jesus Christ, I almost froze my nuts off. When Mark Twain said "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco", he should have amended it to "Unless of course you're in the East Bay, and it's winter…and you're dumb enough to be outside after sundown…for any reason whatsoever….you moron." Needless to say, I invested in a heavy jacket which seems to have remedied the situation…but good lord, to be homeless in the Bay Area in the winter you'd have to be one hearty motherfucker. In fact, I'd put the Bay Area bums up against any in the world…they're just that impressive. OK, that's about it for now…time to get to some chores I've been ignoring due to my whacked out sleep schedule and being out of town…good times.

*If there IS a phone out there that WILL get you laid...let me know. THAT is a purchase I may consider...

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Why The Family Guy Gets It and Demon Bats

I have a sense of humor. In fact, I am a fairly funny guy. I say this because all of my life folks have told me "Hey, you're pretty damn funny." So there you go, unsolicited opinions to the fact that I do have a funny bone. Now, having said that, I know funny when I see it, and when I don't. Let me say this: most folks DO NOT have a sense of humor. They think they do, but they are sadly mistaken. So, get ready for me to say something controversial. Napoleon Dynamite was not a funny movie. I have said this before. In fact, I had an argument with a friend a long time ago about this and my point was "It's trying too hard to be quirky and unusual...but theres no real humor. Just an attempt at oddity....which in and of itself is not necessarily funny." Needless to say a lot of folks accused ME of not having a sense of humor and Napoleon Dynamite went on to make a ton of money (because people don't know real humor and whats actually funny). Well, I was watching my DVR'd Family Guy last night, and guess what conversation took place? This one:

Peter: "Hey Quagmire! Cool, you're dressed like Napoleon Dynamite. You going to say anything funny?"

Quagmire: "No. I just do quirky things for the sake of being quirky."

Peter: "You strike me as someone who I wouldn't enjoy but others might."

Awesome! Seth McFarlane is the creative genius behind Family Guy and is one funny bastard. And, apparently, he sees eye to eye with me on the whole Napoleon Dynamite thing. It only took like two years but now I feel vindicated. I will sleep well tonight! Actually, maybe I won't. And here's why....

FUCKING BATS. I hate bats. Loathe them. They CREEP ME THE SHIT OUT. Snakes? No problem. Spiders? Feh...I'm your man. Viscious dogs? Nah. I can deal. But bats? (shudder) Let me give you a little background. When I was about 14 yrs old I was hanging out with a friend of mine in my parents driveway. We lived in the country. I was sitting in my dads pickup truck and listening to the stereo with the windows down. It was dusk. My friend was sitting in the grass outside the truck. As I sat in the truck I felt a vibration next to my ear. It felt like a big butterfly was buzzing next to my ear. I felt something then bump my head. I said to my friend "I think theres a huge moth in here." He replied "Dude, that's a bat." Me: "FUUUUCK!" I then frantically tried to open the truck door and launch myself out of the truck. I threw myself against the door and almost knocked all the wind out of me because the door wouldn't open. I repeatedly slammed myself against the door trying to get out as the bat from hell buzzed around my head and bumped into my ear. As I was starting to rip the handle off of the door, my friend said "Dude, you've got to unlock it." I then pulled up on the lock with the force of the Incredible Hulk ripping some skin off of my finger tips and sprinted into the driveway. I looked around thinking the bat must be gone now that I'm outside. I then felt another bump into my head. I ran down the side of my house yelling "FUUUUUUUCK!!!!!" My fiends only comment "Dude...that bat is totally chasing you." As I heard the fluttering of leathery wings behind me, I made a hard right into the house and escaped what I knew was almost certain death. My friend laughed his ass off for about fifteen minutes and almost peed himself in his state of hysterics. So there you go. Thats where my psychological scarring came from where bats are concerned. To this day I cannot stand them. OK, this brings us to tonight. I get home after a hard day at work and its about 11pm. I feel like a snack so I pour myself a small bowl of cereal and sit down on the sofa to unwind and watch a little tv. I see this flutter to my right out of the corner of my eye. Is that a bird? I turn to the right and look into my dining area...and almost blow a mouthfull of Honey Nut Cheerios out my nose. There, fluttering around in my dining area is a black bat. Although I know the bats in our region are about the size of a mouse with wings, this thing looked like a black 747 jumbo jet with fangs. It was hungry, bloodthirsty, and wanted to feed. I could feel it focusing in on my carotid artery. Although I did have the urge to yell "FUUUUCK!!!" again just like when I was 14, I fought it back. I dodged around the winged death merchant and grabbed my phone. I then opened all my doors hoping this creature from the bowels of hell would tumble out into the black abyss of the night. No such luck. It fluttered over to my bar and disappeared into the curtains by the window. So, I called my mom who lives down the street and told her "Theres a bat in my house." She laughs and says "I know how you feel about bats! It would have been better if there was a rabid Doberman Pincher in there." (True quote) So she comes over and I tell her just to watch the door and let me know if the bat flies out of the house. I'm going around to the backyard to pull the screen off by the bar in hopes the bat is over there and maybe it will fly out. As I walk around to to the back yard I hear my mom scream. Hmmmm....the bat is obviously on the move. I ask her where it went and she tells me its over by the bar again somewhere. I make it to the back yard and shine my flashlight through the screen. There, hanging upside down vampire style in the window, is the hellspawn...I mean bat. OK. He's right next to the screen. If I pop the screen off, hopefully he'll just fly right out of the window. So, here we go. Off comes the screen as it crashes to the ground and I rapidly retreat a few steps expecting a bat was going to try and wrap itself around my face and drain the fluid from my eyeballs. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Hmmm. "Mom, you see anything?" Mom: "Nope." It MUST have flown out, right? How could it have not? Sigh. "Ok, I'm coming back in." I go back in the house and head over to the bar and as a precaution shake the curtain. Out comes the bat and my mom screams like theres an axe murderer in my home. I dodge the flying demon and make a break for the front door ready to crush this thing to a pulp if it goes for my eyeball fluid. As I'm performing an eyeball fluid saving tactical retreat through my living room, my mom says "It flew out the window." I then run outside (constantly scanning for a hell missle) and quickly put the screen back on the window. Final cost of this exercise? My cat got out (later retrieved), my cereal went soggy, I'm covered in sweat, and I'll never sleep good again. I'm wiped out...time for bed. And yes, I WILL dream of bats...