January 31, 2008

When "moments" are not actually moments

Some mornings before I leave for work I pop on ESPN2 to watch Mike and Mike for about 10 minutes. I used to listen to them much more, but slowly became totally fed up with their, as Jeff put it, forced chemistry. Not to mention they are both idiots.

This morning they were doing a countdown list of the Top 25 Super Bowl Moments. These two love talking about lists because it makes them feel like real sports experts. So they're going through number 6-10. Scott Norwood missed that field goal. Jackie Smith dropped the EASY TD pass in the endzone. John Elway's helicopter manuever.

And then they get to "John Riggins rushes for 166 yards." OK, the first three I mentioned were moments. Plays. This one was over the course of an entire game. And it made me realize that whoever's writing this shit for ESPN has mushed bananas for brains.

Saying John Riggins rushing for 166 yards is one of the great Super Bowl moments is like me saying Kindergarten was the greatest moment of my life. I understand that 'moment' can mean many things. But let's be serious here.

Something else that pisses me off in much the same way is on Sundays or Mondays or whatever day, when Chris Berman does his Top 10 plays. Half of the "plays" are entire games, and he just sits there and screams "WHAAP" in a pitch that no man should be able to reach.

I'm sick and tired of ESPN. Most of their programming is horrible. If there were other options I'd probably explore them, but I can't deal with the piss poor video quality of Fox Sports Network. Just wait til the day that ESPN has the rights to the Super Bowl! It's not enough that they took MNF. In reality, it's no better than the NFL Network, except that most households already have cable and thus ESPN.

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Van Buren Boys

Jeff just reminded me of one of the greatest punk bands ever from East Hartford, The Van Buren Boys. We had three songs, two of which were just covers. The other was an original. The performance was taped by Sarah Hut-Hut-Hikeler, and it took place in my basement at my 17th birthday party. The concert was totally impromptu and featured full sets by While Preparing Dinner Edna Accidentally Opened Up a Can of Whoopass and Robot Clean.

That was the best birthday party ever.

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January 29, 2008

I'm writing a book

It's called How to Waste 10 Minutes of Your Life.

The only page will say, "Ask my boss any question."

I have now lost all motivation to get anything done today.

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Why the Giants will beat the Pats

M-O-M-E-N-T-U-M. The Giants have it. If I had to name two NFC teams that I thought had a chance of beating the Pats before the playoffs started, I would've said Dallas and Green Bay. Guess what. The Giants just beat them both back-to-back.

So far no one I know has said they thought the Giants have any chance of winning Super Bowl XLII. As a matter of fact, Boivin said with full conviction that no only do they not have a chance, but they are going to get blown out. I disagree.

On paper, New England is no doubt the best team. Best QB, best WR core, 4th ranked defense, arguably the best coaching, and a beast of a RB. No question there. They're 18-0, he first team ever to start a season that way, and probably one of the three best teams in the history of the NFL.

But the game is played on the field.


It's just plain stupid that the Pats are favored by 12 points.

The G-Men have all the components that a team needs to win a Super Bowl, but more importantly, to beat the Patriots: A killer pass rush anchors a defense that has been playing so tight. A terrific running game featuring the biggest, bruisingest RB in the NFL and a speedy, home-run hitting rookie. Receivers that have taken advantage of some of the NFL's best pass coverages.

And Eli's been playing pretty well too.

There's a good chance I'll end up eating these words, but there's a good chance that I'll be right too. And although it doesn't really matter, I'm always glad when I see on the Bottom Line on ESPN that only 59.5% of "Sports Nation" thinks the Patriots will win.



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January 28, 2008

A day of movies

Yesterday I saw two very different movies. The first was Rescue Dawn, the Werner Herzog-directed Vietnam feature, starring Christian Bale as a U.S. bomber pilot turned P.O.W. The second was There Will Be Blood, nominated for eight academy awards including best actor (Daniel Day-Lewis) and best picture. I loved both.

Rescue Dawn was great because very rarely does a movie evoke such a wide array of emotions at their extremes. Happiness and grief, sheer terror and anger. Christian Bale is fantastic and inspiring, and Steve Zahn is equally wonderful as a prisoner-gone-mad.

There Will Be Blood was one of the most amazing movies I've seen this year. I mean in the past year, not in 2008. I've pretty much seen 3 movies in 2008.

Danieal Day-Lewis was amazing. His character, Daniel Plainview is a heartless and ruthless (without Ruth, my grandmother) businessmen with an incredible mustache. It reminds me of Citizen Kane, whose title character, Charles Foster Kane is obsessed with his material possessions. But Kane longs for Rosebud, his youth, which is not a part of Plainviews' M.O. in the least. Plainview only desires for more. More wealth. More land. More oil. And at any expense.

Day-Lewis's portrayal is stunning. He creates a character who on his facade is an honest man who prefers "plain speaking," and often, Day-Lewis makes us believe that. But so often we see Plainview go to great lengths, including personally humiliating himself in front of a congregation. This was one of the most poignant scenes, although it was hilarious. Plainview agrees to be baptized. He accepts the blood of Christ and admits to abandoning his son. At no other point in the film do we believe that Plainview is being fully truthful, but we come to find out otherwise. Daniel Day-Lewis's ability to make his character seem honest and dishonest, good and evil, all at once is remarkable.It can't go without saying that the film's original soundtrack, composed by Jonny Greenwood (the guitarist from Radiohead), is paramount. At the opening it is overly cacophonous, giving the impression of impending doom. Throughout Blood, the music makes us feel as if we are constantly building towards something, with great tension. At points, the soundtrack is so crucial that without it, we might not even get a sense of what is coming. It's an inner monologue of sorts, because without it, we would only be seeing Plainview's strictly-business front.


There Will Be Blood is not only about Plainview's thirst for fortune. His foil, Eli Sunday played by Paul Dano (who is originally from CT) is a young man interested in spreading the word of God and using Plainview to help procure money for his church. In their final showdown, Paul Thomas Anderson (who also wrote and directed Magnolia which I highly recommend if you can spare 3 hours) reveals to us what he thinks of human nature: that we are all, even the holiest among us, are greedy, self-indulgent beings.

I couldn't help but draw parallels between this movie and the 21st century world. There are obvious notions of America's ravenous thirst for oil, which many people have at one time or another thought was the reason we are fighting a war in Iraq. (I don't know what the real reason is. I don't think many people do). There are parts that seem to symbolize the war between religions, and the pressing of religion on the people, as the U.S. government seems to do more and more these days. If I had to guess, I would say that Paul Thomas Anderson is a liberal.

I've now seen 3 of the 5 films nominated for best picture, and am hoping to see the other two, Michael Clayton and Atonement, this week. At that point, I just might do a Best Picture post, but the three I've seen, No Country for Old Men, Juno, and Blood, have all been great. See all three if you haven't.

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One of the best written news articles I've read in some time was in the New York Times today.

You can read it here.

UPDATE: I was wondering why this post looked funny and realized it has no title.


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January 26, 2008

Tennis players must love God

Have you ever watched tennis? OK probably not. Well just to give a brief background, tennis is a sport that was created by Welsh farmers in the 16th century that were trying to herd sheep.

But, what I really want to talk about is that inevitable moment at the end of a match, usually the finals of a tournament. You know where I'm going. Immediately after the last point, the victor, in a moment of pure bliss and happiness drops to his knees and screams/ cries/ masturbates.

Andre Agassi probbaly thinking about how much he loves Canon cameras


Bjorn Borg


Maria SharpovaMaria again, for good measure.


I mean, it seems to happen at the end of every tournament, Grand Slam or otherwise. Is there a rule I don't know about? I just happened to see the highlights from the Australian Open final on Sports Center and needed to ask the question.

I think if I were in such a position, I would maybe lay down and make a snow angel or something. Or maybe I'll just start dropping to my knees in celebration at inappropriate times, like after checking out at the grocery store, or after getting the mail.

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January 25, 2008

Ranking the grad schools

I've completed applications for 11 of the 14 schools that I'm applying to. I'm going to enroll in a doctorate program in chemistry. Someday you may have to call me Dr. Vinnie (Boombatz).
During this process, I've been thinking that 14 schools is too many, but my grades in college, although not awful, are not stellar either. A solid 3.0 overall and in chemistry. I think 3.0 in chem put me right in middle of the group of 7 chemists that I graduated with. The best one is a grad student at Yale. If I get into 3 or 4 schools, I'll be happy. If I get into just one, I'll still be happy. As long as that one isn't UCONN.

And just for the record, doctorate programs are basically paid for through teaching or research assistantships. No tuition plus $20-25K per year plus health insurance. Add those up and it's like having a $50K a year job.

I'm applying to these schools in general order of preference (links to photos of the team's mascot):

U of Florida
U of Oregon
U of Georgia
U of Tennessee
Arizona State
U of Colorado
Georgia Tech
U of Wisconsin
Michigan State
Purdue
U of Indiana
Syracuse
Rutgers
UCONN

Basically I want to go somewhere warm that is not in the Northeast. I'm sick of you, Northeast and your cold winters and your liberal views and your what not. I also want to live somewhere cheap and I want a school with good athletics. All of these schools have decent followings for their football and basketball programs.

Once I get in at some places (If I get accepted to more than one university) I'll place much heavier consideration on the chemistry program and possible faculty advisers.

Working sucks. School is better. All you youngsters out there remember that.

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January 24, 2008

Happy Birthday Mike Kennedy

Happy Birthday Mike. You are the grossest and weirdest kid I've ever met, and today is your special day. Say hi to Sonu for me.
Also Happy Birthday Jay Stone.

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Kids, the movie

Let me just start by saying it took me far too long to see Kids, and it was great, but now I feel totally violated. Kids is a story, shot mostly like a documentary, about teenagers growing up in New York City. They drink. They smoke ciggypoos and dope. They steal. They have and talk about sex. They break into pools. They beat up other kids. And these seem to be the only things that interest them. Their parents are in the dark about what their kids are doing, and the kids are uninterested in what adults think or say. They act as if they are in their own world, and the camera rarely strays from them to show images of adults.

Really, I feel terrible about what's happening to these kids. Their lives are headed nowhere. Fast. Telly, who is possibly the sleeziest character I've ever seen, has only one interest, fucking. Trouble is he has HIV. God I wish I could just get this movie out of my head. It is seriously depressing me. AGH!

The characters, the writing and the directing make the experience very genuine. From what I've read, most of the cast were not actors but just kids who actually live this way and the film was written by an 18-year old kid.

Everyone should probably see this. The shock value is extremely high, and I think that's the point. You should definitely see this.

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Update: Prostitutes, Drugs and Guns

You can see the video of Dan's rant on John's new blog.

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January 23, 2008

Forgive me Father...

...for I have sinned. It has been two weeks and one day since I last shaved. I don't know why I made such a ludicrous agreement with Daniel. He hasn't shaved in over 3 weeks and he has substantially less turf up in his grill than I do. It's like you're asking how much less hair could he have, and the answer is none. None more less.

Also, I've come to grips with the fact that my job is going to suck and my boss is going to be unhappy unless I bust my ass constantly. There are many obstacles to this, the biggest being my own laziness, and my boss's insatiable appetite for blood, but more importantly that the nature of the work is unconditionally humdrum. Making edible films is not all it's cracked up to be, from my vantage point. It's more like cooking than chemistry. Throw a bunch of shit in a beaker and mix it.

BOOOORRRRRIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG

I want to do reactions. I want to do experiments. The most interesting thing I've done thus far sit and watch Jello set up into the jiggly solid that we know it as.

In other news, I've starting receiving my Netflix, which is cool. Last night I watched the episode of Sopranos that was partially filmed at Drew University. The opening scene is shot in front of S.W. Bowne Hall and is supposed to be the admissions building at Bates. Then later, the facade of Mead Hall poses as the admissions office of Bowdoin I think. Unfortunately when they show the view of the lawn in front of that, they CGI'd out the statue of the horse whose balls I painted and subsequently had to clean off.

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January 21, 2008

Gotta have faith

Right now the worst song ever is stuck in my head.

Faith by Limp Bizkit/George Michael. Ugh.

I'm not sure why. I haven't heard it recently at all. Also, I was internalizing a Backstreet Boys song earlier. What the fuck? I want to drill a hole in my head like the ending of the movie Pi so that I can get this rubbish out of my brain.

Also, Fred Durst's beard is a little healthier than mine after 2 weeks.

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January 20, 2008

Prostutes, Drugs, and Guns

25 Years, What A Blur!

First off, Happy Bearsday to John Cuadras. We knew you could do it.

John's family had a surprise party for him Saturday night, which was lovely. At the end of the night, John's parents put together some John Cuadras trivia. So funny. John's dad was walking around with a Mike saying, "Are you Catholic?" while swinging the microphone like a priest with the Holy Water thingy.

The Dan got on the mic to give a speech. He clearly hadn;t prepared anything, and was mostly saying "25! Whoo!" At the end though, he had a great rant. Allow me to paraphrase:

"John. We're gonna go out tonight. Gonna get some prostitutes, gonna get some guns. We're gonna get drunk. We're gonna get high. YEAH! Let's do it!"

It was hysterical. Hopefully Chris Knerr has some pictures I can put up.

See also: http://eatyourguitar.org/luckyhole/?p=26

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A night in Boston

Me, Scott, Rinaldi, Karl, and Sigal got to Boston around 10:00 after a ridiculous car ride (and thanks to Scott, I didn't have to take a bus there, because as he informed me, I could just get a one-way ticket the next day). I always love road trips with those guys because everyone besides the driver likes to drink in the car on the way, and there is always stupidly funny conversation, mostly involving quoting TV shows or movies. Never a dull moment.

We found Patisteas wandering around some street, and then Rossi showed up, seemingly out of nowhere. I had already had 6 beers by this point. Patisteas made Sigal run all the way to Rossi's house (there wasn't room in the car for them) and when they showed up Sigal kept saying that he was gonna puke.

He didn't puke, but his skin was so pale/green, I thought he did.


Then we went out to some little bar called O'leary's and then over towards Fenway to Cask N' Flagon and Beerworks. Surprisingly none of the bars were very crowded but that didn't stop anyone from getting bombed. Eventually we all stumbled our ways back to Rossi's. Karl busted his ass along the way and I think I picked up a chunk of ice/snow and slammed it on his chest.

Someone (probably Sigal) decided it would be a good idea to wake everyone up at 11, except that everyone was still drunk when we woke up. At least I was. We went for lunch to some Cluck-U wannabe joint called Wings and ate way too much disgusting fried food. Karl and I were talking about how we should always bring hats for morning like this. I looked and felt disgusting. My hair was greasy, and I had this retarded beard.

I was unbelievably dehydrated.

At one point I looked out the window, and wouldn't you know it, Liz Gunn and Rini were standing there waving to us.

We went back to Rossi's and put on Superbad. Kim, Rossi's girlfriend said it would take an hour to get to the bus station so I left. It took about 30 minutes. I felt like shit all the way there and though I would throw up at least once. I didn't

When I finally got to the bus terminal, I tried making conversation with this girl about whatever, but looked and felt too shitty to carry on. At one point on the bus, A girl in the second row was reprimanded by the bus driver about talking on her phone (she was fucking annoying). The hilarious part was that he got on the intercom to ask her to stop, even though she was two rows back.

At Worcester a couple dudes got on the bus and were talking about getting the party poppin as soon as they got there and getting some Heinekens or some Coronas. One guy said he refused to drink Heineken Premium Light, and also that he would be getting some Hennessey.

Then I got home, and the story ended.

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January 17, 2008

The Great Beard Pact of 2008

Can anyone tell me what I was thinking when I agreed to let my beard grow for as long as Dan lets his? Honestly. I'm not even sure that Dan can grow facial hair. Now I'm in for a few weeks of looking like trash and having a really itchy chin. GREAT! (Any suggestions on hilarious facial hair styles I could shave into my face after the pact has been achieved?)

It's ironic that I just read this article on Snarfd.com about how fashionable beards are. Conan and David look so classy with beards, and I'm starting to think if I let it go long enough, I could pull it off.



Once upon a time there was another equally epic and ridiculous contest between me and Danny. It was the T-shirt contest. The rules were that we had to come to school with all the shirts on. No shirts could be put on in the parking lot. The whole thing was a hilarious spectacle. Look at the group of people in the library that morning watching us.

The final score was:

Dan-30 something; Me-5 less than Dan

Deep down inside I know this beard pact is a way of getting revenge for that humiliating defeat.


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January 16, 2008

Charlie Ahearn: Good God

Jeff had this video called Charlie Ahearn's Artist Portrait Videos that he supposedly got from his editor, although I would definitely believe it if he said he had gotten from a homeless man in a parking lot in Hartford on a Friday night looking for spare change to buy crack. This was easily one of the most bizarre and twisted things I have ever seen in my life.

I don't know what kind of awful things happened to my brain while I watched this piece-of-horse-dung video.

I guess the DVD was a collection of videos, possibly 5 (but I could only bear to watch one and a half), made by some guy named Charlie Ahearn, although I would believe his name was Charlie Payne. It's hard to explain just what happened in these videos. Well, really nothing happened. It was mostly fucked up images laid over one another. Occasionally it seemed like four or five or more images were stacked on top of one another and never seemed to unite in any sort of harmonic way.

This woman, I think her name was Kiki was constantly talking about some striaght bull crap, diarrhea-of-the-mouth-style. At one point she was reading a book, but it was like listening to a 9 year old reading Kant.

The most hilarious thing in this otherwise worthless video was a sculpture made by this Kiki person. A naked man on all fours with a 10 foot long poopie coming out of his ass. HAHAHAHA!!!!

The whole time we were watching, I was cracking up.

I couldn't help but wonder who this Charlie Ahearn character is and why he decided to make such terrible things. Now, I'm sure there is at least one person out there, probably a bunch, who think his shit is great, but seriously dude, what the hell were you thinking?

If you happen to read this, please explain this video to me and also give me a list of drugs you have done in your life.

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Automated Telephone Systems

During my ordeal with ETS over the last few days, and simultaneously thinking about a cover design Jeff did for the Hartford Advocate recently, I got to thinking about how archaic automated telephone systems are.

"For english, press 1. Para espanol, press 2 (but it says that part in spanish)."



Now, the fact that there was no way to send my GRE scores via the ETS website really bothered me, because by God, it's 2008 or as my carpool pal Ray put it, "Two Sousand Eight! Is redikouluss!"

So that got me wondering: In the future, what will we be able to do over the phone without ever needing to talk to another person?

Here are some possibilities:

Order Pizza: Welcome to Dominos. For Deep Dish press 3. For Mushrooms press 7. For pubes press 5.

Phone Sex: Just imagine that recorded voice
going Oh. Baby. Oh. God... I was thought that woman's voice was sexy. Press pound at any time for list of positions.

Surf the Internet: We already have the internet. We already have phones. Seems like a logical next step.

Buy Drugs: You know that scene in Half Baked when Dave Chapelle is talking about how he just has to call a number, tell the guy what he wants and an hour later he has his cheebah delivered to him? Well why can't I just push some buttons and get the same service? No dealing with pesky "people" plus your vocal cords get a rest.

Command Your Army or Militia: Just think about how easy it would be to attack, reposition, or burn a village! 1. 3. 5. 1. Nuclear silo eliminated!

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January 15, 2008

What really happened at Karl's house

So here I am at work, on my computer, as per usual for Tuesday afternoons. I felt the urge to play spider solitaire, but at the instant that I saw my mouse pointer hover over the spider icon in my "Recently Used Crap" area of the Start menu, my mind was suddenly overcome by dark and apparently repressed memories from my New Year's trip to Karl's house.

It must've been on Sunday, while Karl was taking his hour-long Hollywood shower. I happened to notice his dad, George, playing spider solitaire. Now, you must realize that in my Airgas days, I spent about 6 hours a day playing that game. So fancying myself somewhat of a decent Spidder (that's the lingo), I challenged Big George to a match.

I easily won the first game, and I could tell Big George was getting pissed because afterwards he screamed "GOD DAMMIT! I'M GOING TO EAT YOU IF I LOSE AGAIN!" Back then, I was much younger and stupider, and not even the beast George Laufenberg threatening cannabalism could stop me from claiming a spider solitaire victory so I whooped him like a peanut butter and jelly sangwoggio (Italian for sandwich) beats a parakeet at being spelling bees.

Big G walked out of the room dejected and despondent. It was over. He was not going to eat me.

Then I heard the sound of a chainsaw and thought to myself, "That sounds like a chainsaw." I turned around and there he was, hoisting the chainsaw high over his head and weeping like a wee babe would weep.

Luckily, I never travel without my sword at my hip, and I unsheathed it. We battled for what seemed like minutes. Then Karl was FINALLY done getting ready (he took at least 3 hours) and we left.

Moral: Don't beat Big George at spider solitaire.

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January 14, 2008

Carl's not that pissed

Props to Karl with a K for the video.





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The most ass-backwards thing I've ever heard

I just finished reading an article on the New York Times.com with this headline: Amputee Ineligible for Olympic Events.


Oscar Pistorius of South Africa was born without fibulas and had his legs amputated when he was just 11 months. He's been competing in the Paralympics for four years and has set world records in the 100, 200 and 400 meter events running on carbon-fiber, J-shaped blades known as Cheetahs (ironically this sounds like cheaters). He says it's his dream to compete in the Olympics.

But the I.A.A.F. has concluded that Pistorius' prostheses give him an unfair advantage against other athletes.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HE HAS NO LEGS!!!

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NFL playoffs: Last second magic?

My god the playoffs have been so good up to this point. I live for a game that ends with a last minute defensive stop almost as much as I love a game that ends with a last minute, go-ahead score.



And speaking of which, I feel like we're due for some first-rate, last second magic this year. I'm talking about some insane, Music City Miracle shit. Anyone remember "The Catch II" when Terrell Owens caught that last second touchdown pass from a bumbling, stumbling Steve Young? I just saw that the other day on NFL's Greatest Games. Young dropped back to pass with 8 seconds left, tripped over his feet and nearly hit the deck, gathered himself, and fired a bullet to T.O. in the front of the end zone for the win.

Brett Favre has proved he has some magic left in that arm of his. I wouldn't doubt that we could see, in what appears to be the likely Super Bowl match of Green Bay and New England, either team take the lead with under a minute left, only to be out done by the other team's Hall of Fame QB.

Got any predictions on the conference championships? Right now the spreads are:

NEW ENGLAND vs. San Diego (+14.5)
GREEN BAY vs. New York Giants (+6.5)

Who ya got?

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January 13, 2008

The best diner in Vernon

The procedings at Vernon Diner on Saturday night/ Sunday morning have listlessly come back to me. I remember seeing AJ Fournier and Adam Hinckley leave and get in their car which was immediately ceased by the FBI. AJ's head was savagely ripped off by a renegade officer wielding a spiked club/bat of some sort. The whole occurrence seemed completely vicious yet subtly conventional. What was equally vicious was the waitress's handling of our table: spitting in Fred's face and spilling water all over my crotch hardly seem like a proper way to treat customers.

I'm totally shocked that the Chargers upset the Colts this afternoon. I have a hunch that in the Cowboys - Giants game, Michael Strahan will decapitate Tony Romo is a correspondingly bestial manner. More on this weekend's games to come.

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January 12, 2008

Momo-Taro!

First off, I've found out that people are actually reading this site. That makes me feel really warm in my nether regions and Antoine's Sweaty Abyss. As long as I know you guys are reading and posting comments I will keep updating daily or semi-daily or Jeff Daley.

Have you ever gone out for dinner only to find that the restaurant was having karaoke night starring a bunch of little kids singing songs they've never heard, using some bullshit Chinatown Karaoke DVD game with hilarious MIDI songs? So you know what I'm talking about then. Weird, right?Let me give you a piece of advice: DO NOT GO TO MOMO-TARO ON A FRIDAY NIGHT!



I've never had a more awkward dinner. We're there about 10 minutes when we realize what we're in for. First a kid attempted to karaoke to I Love Rock & Roll, and when I say singing, I mean reading the words on the screen while changing his inflection. Not to mention with all the reverb on the mic he sounded more like a chorus of dying/dead children.

Later on in the night, a little before Boivin and Nikki showed up I told the waitress that if they came, I would take a big sushi knife and cut their throats, accompanied by me doing the throat-slash signal.

The little old Asian lady thought it was so funny, and when they showed up she said, "They here! They here!," to me.

I don't remember what else happened, not because I was drunk but because it was relatively uneventful (but still fun), except Dan and John took turns shooting each other and we went to Vernon Diner where I saw A.J. Fournier and Adam Hinckley.

Playoff football today. Thank goat!

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January 11, 2008

Walk Hard: Fucking Hilarious

Judd Apatow must be the king of Hollywood, because apparently everyone is lining up to kiss his ring and feast on fish heads with him. Ensemble cast might not be the right word to describe the ridiculous number of celebrity cameos in this movie.



These people were all in Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story: John C. Reilly, Jenna Fischer, Tim Meadows, Chris Parnell, Jack Black, Jack White, Frankie Muniz, Paul Rudd, Jonah Hill, Kristen Wiig, Matt Besser, Harold Ramis (Egon), Jason Schwarzman, The Temptations, Lyle Lovett, Jewell, Eddie Vedder, Ed Helms, Craig Robinson, Justin Long (from the Mac/PC commericals).

Walk Hard is directly a parody of recent films about music legends, Walk The Line and Ray for example, but it is also a spoof on the history of rock. In about an hour and a half Dewey becomes addicted to cocaine and speed, goes to jail and rehab, then relapses and becomes addicted to LSD and PCP via a spiritual meeting with the Beatles, and goes to jail and rehab again. He manages to sire five children by the time he is 15, and the way the babies keep appearing out of nowhere without ever getting older is hilarious. By the end, Dewey has fathered an entire orchestra (like Bill Brasky might have).

I couldn't help but notice one scene that was directly out of Magnolia (which John C. Reilly was also in). In the latter half of Walk Hard, Dewey Cox is interviewed by Jane Lynch (Paula from 40 Year Old Virgin). Cox bears an uncanny resemblance to Frank T.J. Mackey.


Unlike another rockumentary-mockumentary, This Is Spinal Tap, the original Dewey Cox songs, while rather epic, just weren't that funny, except for the duet that started out with him saying, "In my dream you were blowing me [long pause] kisses."
My movie instincts were right again. This movie is hilarious. See it.

By the way, Jenna Fischer is fucking hot in Walk Hard and also semi-nude in some magazine. Please marry me Jenna.

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The girls from the Giants game

Last week I mentioned these Pats-fan ho-bags from the Giants game. I fucking hate Patriots fans but man, I love these girls.


UPDATE: Mosh made this his Facebook picture and one his friends said he knew them and both girls friended him! I told him to put in the good word for me.

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January 10, 2008

Nothing's new

Recently I've been carpooling with this Chinese fellow named Ray who works at Watson. He lives in Glastonbury, and clearly feels an obligation to yap my ear off the whole time. I don't mind too much, but I'd rather just listen to my iPod. Today he said I should move to Japan or China at least 6 months because Asian women love white men and it would be easy to get laid.

Speaking of Asia, I read about Nasubi, the Japanese TV star who was trapped in an apartment with no food or entertainment, and had to survive by winning things from magazine contests. The whole thing was shown on national television and eventually a live, 24-hour internet feed was set up. It is pretty hilarious, although totally retarded.

He was also forced to be nude.

I found this amazing Jeopardy! website which archives probably about 70-80% of Jeopardy episodes. Every clue and responses, including incorrect answers, which contestant answered, the order the questions were picked in and even most of Alex's stupid remarks.

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January 8, 2008

Big tobacco kills

I just got through reading this New York Times editorial. Connecticut, you need to come correct with some proper game.

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January 7, 2008

Should I move to LA

Background: I work in West Haven, CT right now as a chemist. I'm only a temp. My contract is 6 months (I started in October) and there is a possibility I could be hired as a full-time employee in April. I'm planning on attending grad school in August of '08.

If I opt to not stay on as a full time employee at my current job that leaves me with 3-4 months of free time. I'm contemplating the following options:

1) Road Trip. A few weeks to a month. Visit major cities in the US.

2) Move to Los Angeles. Stay with my aspiring actor friend Max. Get a bullshit job. Shmooze around LA for a while.

I'm not sure what I want to do. I have a few months to think about it and I definitely don't want to sit around at home during that time.

Any suggestions?

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Gaints vs. Bucs

I got to go to the Giants-Bucs game Sunday in Tampa, FL. It was my first time visiting Tampa, and could very well be my last, unless my dad decides to move there.

More or less, it's a pretty boring place. Lots of unused space. No downtown area. But I did see about 10 strip clubs. Also, I was expecting to see many more hot girls there.

Giants won 24-14. I got pretty wasted during the game.

We flew home today. I saw a girl who has the same birthday as me in the airport terminal on the way home. She was taking the same flight as me, but I didn't see her on the plane, interestingly enough.

I miss the warm weather.

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January 4, 2008

2007 went out with a bang Part 4 of 4: New Year's Eve

Just for the record, New Year's Eve 2007 sucked a huge boner. I went to a party in Boston with Mike and Ted and then got kicked out. I ended up wandering around Brighton while trying to call Fred and John for about an hour.

Fast-forward 365 days. The place: Malvern, PA.



The day was full of Rock Band, grocery shopping and playing with noise makers in the check-out line at iParty.

At the grocery store, Karl decided it would be a good idea to get the most retarded shopping cart ever. Instead of a normal cart it was like a little one with two baskets, one high and one low. Anytime I think about shopping carts I always remember the little old lady from Shop Rite who asked me, "Is this your wagon?" referring to a shopping cart. It wasn't mine.

When we got back we showered (separately) and started drinking. Before I knew it, the party was in full effect and we were playing some crazy beirut-style drinking game called 21. Then some drunk and obnoxious dude named Tim wanted to beat up some loud and obnoxious dude named Jim because Jim said "Get out of here with your earring," to Tim. I think Tim got mad because he didn't have any earrings. Jim did not know this.

Unfortunately the hottest girl at the party was married. At one point during flip cup, he said "Damn. Look at my wife's ass," to me. I gladly obliged. I told him it was nice.

Unfortunately, the second hottest girl was in high school.

Countdown to midnight. Dick Clark said "Happy Dew Year!" Champagne started flowing. More drinking. More sandwiches. And some high schooler got a handjob from his girlfriend while I was trying to sleep. . . in the same room.

We played the traditional New Year's Day football game. My soreness has finally worn off. I didn't catch any passes.

My only New Year's resolution is to stay out of jail.

Good Luck 2008.

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January 3, 2008

Happy Dew Year!

I heard about this the other day on the radio but didn't see the video until just now. By God, it's hilarious. Dick Clark is pretty much only asked to say one thing a year but I guess he's just too old and frail to say it correctly.

Hopefully, he's just a comic genius screwing with us all.

Hopefully he'll get it right next year.

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2007 went out with a bang Part 3 of 4: Sunday

Sunday ended up being your average Sunday. Wake up with a nice huge headache and an equally huge hangover. Take aspirin. Drink water. Get humped by Karl's bitch (how or why a female dog would choose to hump a person is still beyond me).

Then of course, watch football. Sundays between September and January are holy days to me. Somehow I have been able to use the excuse, "I have to watch football," to avoid doing so many things that were supposed to happen on Sundays. Birthday parties, day trips, Bar Mitzvahs, Bat Mitzvahs.

In one game I saw, the Eagles handily beat the Bills.

The other game was, at one point in the past year, a potentially huge week 17 rematch of the 2006 NFC Championship. Unfortunately, the Saints and Bears had massively disappointing seasons. I think the Bears beat the Saints. Or maybe the Saints beat the Bears. Or maybe who gives a fuck about that game.

Later we headed to Malvern, PA, supposedly a suburb of Philly, to Mosh's house. House isn't even the word to use. Castle is more like it. Luckily, we had missed all of the important games of the day during the car ride. We got to Mosh's and played Rock Band for a while. Rock Band is quite possibly the sweetest video game ever. Guitar Hero meets Bass Hero meets Singing Hero meets Drums Hero. So fun.

Chris's parentals were nice enough to invite us along to dinner with their whole family (about 12 of us in all). The restaurant was BYOB so I got semi-wasted on Sam Adams and merlot. I ate the veal and said weird things to Mosh's youngest brother Rob (senior in high school) and his girlfriend. I'm sure they thought I was hilarious.

The night ended with more Rock Band, a little Scene It dominated by Karl, Mosh and myself thanks to the clutch, last-second Pay It Forward response (that movie was terrible), and the first 40 minutes of Superbad at which point everyone passed out until we all woke up without headaches.

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January 2, 2008

2007 went out with a bang Part 2 of 4: Giants vs. Pats

Saturday we were headed to the Giants - Patriots game at Giants Stadium in some swamp in north Jersey. Karl was named Regional Manager of Tailgating Food by the powers that be. I gladly took up the position as Assistant to the Regional Manager a la Dwight Schrute.

While shopping I discovered that people in grocery stores have a special affinity for talking to me. Perhaps it was my perplexed countenance as I searched for the condiments aisle that caused that nice old lady to offer her expertise or that made that elderly man strike up a conversation over the necessity of sauerkraut on a hot dog.

So whatever, we bought some groceries and some liquor and a bottle of Andre, which I drank to my dome in about 20 minutes at the game.

In the parking lot we played a little beer pong (you had to aim a foot to the left because of the wind) and a little flip cup. I attempted to get the world's largest flip cup game together by yelling for people to bring their tables and their bodies over, but no one obliged or even acknowledged me for that matter. I was reunited with McCann (whom I saw drink beer for the first time ever), Spads, and Mosh who I hadn't seen since May. Spads kept begging Karl to let him be grillmaster by saying something like, "Hey, need any help?" over and over until Karl was on the table. Spads was not happier that night, or possibly his whole life, than at that moment.

The game was good. Pats went 16-0. Brady and Moss broke their respective records on a single play (how Moss got into one-on-one coverage two plays in a row is baffling). Fuck the Patriots. The highlight of the game was some grungy ass dude letting me swig off his flask to which he then screamed, "WHISKEY!" That guy was hilarious and shitfaced. He bit Mosh's arm because he is a Pats fan. Also there were two amazingly hot girls three rows behind us. One of them waved at me a couple times. I hated them because they were Patriots fans. But they were hot.

After the game we ate more burgers and hot dogs and drank more beer while the parking lot emptied out. Karl ended up leaving important parts to his dad's grill there. Asshole.

We finally left around who-the-fuck-knows o' clock. We dropped off Anthony in Paramus. He pointed out a strip club called Satin Dolls and said "It's the one from Sopranos, and it's open forever." I still don't know what that meant. We decided to stop at Satin Dolls. Dave decided to sleep in the car. We went in, and after noticing that none of the five girls on stage were nude or getting nude, we left. We would refer to this place for the rest of the weekend as the worst strip club ever.

Then we all went to sleep. Although Dave had been sleeping for about 3 hours already, including while he drove about half an hour to Karl's house. We went to bed and I woke up with a headache the next morning. Again.

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2007 went out with a bang Part 1 of 4: Jersey

2007 was one of the best years in recent memory. I graduated college which is cool. I spent all summer playing golf which is also cool.

The last four days of 2007 could probably only have been better if I had won the lottery during a threesome with 2 gorgeous women while watching a midget (little person?) juggle chainsaws and swallow fire.

Friday I went down to the dirty dirty Jerz-ee to chill with Karl. After playing Klondike on my iPod while waiting for him in a parking lot at the Metropark, we headed to his house where we were fed nothing but meat scraps and Lea & Perrins Worchestshire sauce (and what a sauce!). I sat around and drank Magic Hat while Karl played with his new iBook which his father, and eventually I, kept calling gay.

Then it was off to Belmar to hit the bars. First stop was The Boathouse, which I kept calling The Rusty Scupper. During our one and only beer I noticed two of the nastiest 50 year olds I've seen in my life publicly displaying way to much affection. Her hand, his cock, 'nuff said. Then we went to 507. Lot of talent here and a few Guidos (or Blowouts as Pic was calling them). Got drunk. Got some chicks number through the following conversation:

ME: So I'll call you when I'm gonna come up to Hoboken and we'll all hang out right?
HER: Yeah, Karl should have my number.
ME: Karl, Do you have her number?
KARL: No.
ME: Well why don't you give me your number and then I'll give it to Karl?

I don't really remember much else except that I got sufficiently wasted and really enjoyed the chicken salad hoagie I got at Wawa, so much that I got another one before I left for CT on Tuesday.

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