Sometimes I wonder how much my kids are going to be influenced by the fact that their father is a semi-insane, ultra competive weirdo with a giant head. At times I think, blissfully, probably not too much, after all, they have their mother who is grounded, maddeningly reasonable, and has a normal sized head.
Other times, however, I can see a lot of me in them, especially my son. To wit, he is 4 years old, yet completely happy with watching an entire football or baseball game with me, all the while peppering me like a caesar salad with questions ranging from totally inane and pointless ("Dad, does the brown football team have 2 shoes?") to concise and well thought out, ("Dad, what happens if the pitcher throws a ball and the guy hits it and it bounces over the fence?")
His favorite question however, is always, "Dad, who are the bad guys?" He's determined to know who the bad guys are in any situation, so he can figure out who to cheer for, and against. This doesn't just apply to regular sporting events either. The other day we were watching an airplane race from Greece or someplace like that and he wanted to know.
Him: Dad, who are the bad guys?
Me: Ummmm, I don't know dude, this is an airplane race. I don't think there are bad guys.
Him: The red?
Me: Seriously, I don't know.
Him: The blue?
Me: Sure, the blue.
Him: No, the red.
Me: Ummm....
He also wants to know the bad guys when we are watching SportsCenter.
Him: Dad, who are the bad guys?
Me: Buddy, this is just a bunch of people talking about football. There aren't any bad guys.
Him: The guy in black?
Me: Miles???
So once he determines who the bad guys are in any situation (Football, Basketball, the VMA's) he begins vociferously rooting against them. This can be pretty funny when we are alone, but in a setting with others, it's a little embarrassing. We were at Farmington High's Homecoming football game, and near the end we were sitting with my wife's parents on the visitor side, because the home side was too packed to find seats. So then the visiting parents and fans got to enjoy a 4 year old obnoxiously, and loudly rooting for the other team.
Him (Really loudly): GO TIGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That was OK, a little gamesmanship never hurt anybody. But then one of the players on the other team suffered what appeared to be a pretty severe knee injury. Things got a little out of hand after that.
Him (Very loudly again): THE BAD GUY GOT AN OWWIE!!! YAY!!!!!
Us (In hushed tones): Miles, you can't cheer when somebody gets an owwie.
Him: Why not, he's the bad guy. GOOOOO TIGERS!!!!!
People turned around to frown at whoever was cheering a high school kid's injury, and saw my beautiful little boy. He frowned back at all of them, very defiantly. I figure that might be partially my doing. Oops.
Then there's the issue of strategy for winning, which he appears to be coming up with all on his own. I'm not necessarily opposed to this, but it's the type of strategy he's employing that has me a little concerned. I coached his and my daughter's soccer team this fall, and what I noticed was that in between coming up to me and making sure that his team had more goals than the "bad guys" i.e. a bunch of 4 and 5 year olds every 3 minutes or so, that he was also crashing into the other team's players and knocking them over an inordinate amount of times, enough so that it was raising eyebrows with the fans. After the game I said to him,
Me: You were really crashing into the other team a lot. What's the deal?
Him: I was bumping the bad guys so that our team would get the ball and win.
Me: Ummmm....
See, strategy. He was the wrecking ball, opening lanes for his teammates. I applaud the thought he put into that, he's only 4 after all, but I was a little concerned it might be, I don't know, blatant cheating.
Finally, there's this thing he does, around our house we refer to it as a "Gigantic Temper Tantrum", whenever it seems as though he's going to lose at something. I can't help but accept that this is my fault, you're looking at the guy who got kicked out of SS Billiards in Hopkins at the ripe old age of 5 for beating up the "Baby Pac-Man" machine because I thought the joystick wasn't functioning properly. Again, oops. Yesterday we were playing the Wii version of some really lame mini-golf game. My son lost to my daughter. What followed was an epic tantrum, which should really only be reserved for things like the End of the World, that lasted well into dinner, and including loud screaming, and trying to maim his sibling, and the dogs.
I'm not really lamenting about this, he's probably going to be a wonderful athlete, but it's just weird to see the traits your little ones pick up on. I'm resolving to kick garbage cans less this year during baseball season for this reason. Awww, who am I kidding?
Monday, November 23, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Lost & Found
Did you ever stop and think about how much stuff you've lost in your lifetime, and then think in terms of monetary value how much all that stuff would be worth if you had it back? I think about that a lot, and it makes me really mad at myself. How could I have possibly been so careless as to lose all this stuff? Maybe some of it got stolen, but mostly I probably just left the stuff lying somewhere because I'm a careless idiot. Let's break down the list.
-99% of all pens I've ever owned
-60% of all CD's I've ever owned
-1 IPod
-20 pairs of sunglasses
-1 pair of shoes (Side note: When I was 12 and on vacation in San Francisco, my shoes mysteriously vanished, and to this day I have no idea what happened to them. I had only brought one pair also, so I had to wear bread bags on my feet to the airport. I felt like an orphan.)
-A plastic bag containing over 1000 dollars. (Side Note: I found this while floating down a river in Mexico, and I was so geeked about finding it that I forgot to put it in a safe place and it floated right out of my pocket)
-3 cement dildos
-The cassette tape that I drunkenly rapped at Funkytown Studios on
- 2 Wallets
-A trapeze
- A $25 Mystic Lake Casino Chip
-40 Pairs of underpants (Boxers and briefs, but not my snakeskin ballhuggers, thank goodness!!)
- 342 homework assignments (Grades 7-12)
-4 Turtles
-A Sword of Damocles
-404 Wiffle Balls
-2 Girlfriends
-1 cage to keep girlfriends in.
-1 cell phone
-1 baseball uniform (J Botten)
-A really rare Playboy with a nude pictorial featuring Martina Navratilova frenching Ellen DeGeneres.
-74 VHS videos, including 3 Caddyshacks.
-41 DVD's, including 3 Caddyshacks.
- A pair of Jeans that I really liked.
-My "Bad Ass" t-shirt that I made myself and wore to the bar once
-A Charleston Chew that Goose gave me
-A large vat of Meth
-Horse Testicles that I won at the Dakota County Fair
-A Rocket Ship
-The infamous "Will Watson Alaska Anchorage Basketball"
-The 1958 Cleveland Browns
-The Soundtrack to "Peter and the Wolf" hummed loudly by Elton John
-4 million buttons
- A bag of cat poop that we had planned on putting on an old lady's doorstep and then setting it on fire and then ringing the doorbell and when she ran out to stomp on the bag we would run in and lock the door, essentially stealing a house. A foolproof plan conjured up by 11 year olds, foiled because the cat poop bag went missing.
-4 gas caps
-A machine that could turn a normal person into an angry transvestite.
-A large hole in the earth (That's right, I lost a hole. Deal with it.)
-A foam rubber phallus, very handy for smashing people on the head with.
-One of those big foam hands, formed in the shape of "The Shocker"
-A fish hook that actively tried to hook itself into your fingers
and
-All of my baby teeth
That's a pretty long list of very valuable things. But while I was getting all angry, and pouting and swearing, and contemplating going gang raping alone, I realized that I have an equally large pile of things that I have no idea where they came from. I may have inherited them from the earth, like Johnny Appleseed, but more likely it's just mostly stuff my people left behind, and I was too lousy of a friend to ever tell them. This list includes
-74 Tapes and CD's
-42 shirts
- One fleece that did not fit, but I wore it anyway to justify having it.
- One of those bowling glove/carpal tunnel syndrome fixer hand things
-A beach towel previously owned by a professional hockey player
- A statue of Marge Schott
-Some strange medicine from China that makes you poop, pee, and hallucinate about large kittens all at the same time.
-One Moose
-A bunch of hamburger patties that wound up in my freezer.
-Skim cat milk.
-A false Declaration of Independence
-A rogue Tylenol PM that lived on my dorm room floor for months. We even vacuumed around it.
-A bunch of pubes (In a textbook I had in 9th grade)
-2 folding chairs
-A broken camera
-2 pairs of rusty nipple clamps
-A Garden Weasel
-Noseplugs
-A half used tube of Diaper Rash Ointment
-Kevin McHale
-Penis tweezers
-A bunch of useless self help books (Example: How to be Clinically Depressed and Still get the Morning Paper)
-3 different cement dildos
-22,000 rubber bands
-Everybody Poops on Audio book
-A Fernando Valenzuela rookie card, not autographed by me in a blatant attempt to fleece a childhood friend out of money
-Doyle Brunson's front teeth
-A large vial of Crack (or shaved peanuts)
-A small vial of liquid mercury
-The Zapruder Film
-A term paper that proves conclusively the amount of wood a woodchuck would chuck had he been willing and able to chuck the aforementioned wood.
-A zipper
-A bottle of Salmon flavored Whiskey
-A deck of naked lady playing cards that is all jokers and instruction cards
and
-A bottle of sunshine.
I figure I came out about even in this whole thing, so that made me feel a lot better.
-99% of all pens I've ever owned
-60% of all CD's I've ever owned
-1 IPod
-20 pairs of sunglasses
-1 pair of shoes (Side note: When I was 12 and on vacation in San Francisco, my shoes mysteriously vanished, and to this day I have no idea what happened to them. I had only brought one pair also, so I had to wear bread bags on my feet to the airport. I felt like an orphan.)
-A plastic bag containing over 1000 dollars. (Side Note: I found this while floating down a river in Mexico, and I was so geeked about finding it that I forgot to put it in a safe place and it floated right out of my pocket)
-3 cement dildos
-The cassette tape that I drunkenly rapped at Funkytown Studios on
- 2 Wallets
-A trapeze
- A $25 Mystic Lake Casino Chip
-40 Pairs of underpants (Boxers and briefs, but not my snakeskin ballhuggers, thank goodness!!)
- 342 homework assignments (Grades 7-12)
-4 Turtles
-A Sword of Damocles
-404 Wiffle Balls
-2 Girlfriends
-1 cage to keep girlfriends in.
-1 cell phone
-1 baseball uniform (J Botten)
-A really rare Playboy with a nude pictorial featuring Martina Navratilova frenching Ellen DeGeneres.
-74 VHS videos, including 3 Caddyshacks.
-41 DVD's, including 3 Caddyshacks.
- A pair of Jeans that I really liked.
-My "Bad Ass" t-shirt that I made myself and wore to the bar once
-A Charleston Chew that Goose gave me
-A large vat of Meth
-Horse Testicles that I won at the Dakota County Fair
-A Rocket Ship
-The infamous "Will Watson Alaska Anchorage Basketball"
-The 1958 Cleveland Browns
-The Soundtrack to "Peter and the Wolf" hummed loudly by Elton John
-4 million buttons
- A bag of cat poop that we had planned on putting on an old lady's doorstep and then setting it on fire and then ringing the doorbell and when she ran out to stomp on the bag we would run in and lock the door, essentially stealing a house. A foolproof plan conjured up by 11 year olds, foiled because the cat poop bag went missing.
-4 gas caps
-A machine that could turn a normal person into an angry transvestite.
-A large hole in the earth (That's right, I lost a hole. Deal with it.)
-A foam rubber phallus, very handy for smashing people on the head with.
-One of those big foam hands, formed in the shape of "The Shocker"
-A fish hook that actively tried to hook itself into your fingers
and
-All of my baby teeth
That's a pretty long list of very valuable things. But while I was getting all angry, and pouting and swearing, and contemplating going gang raping alone, I realized that I have an equally large pile of things that I have no idea where they came from. I may have inherited them from the earth, like Johnny Appleseed, but more likely it's just mostly stuff my people left behind, and I was too lousy of a friend to ever tell them. This list includes
-74 Tapes and CD's
-42 shirts
- One fleece that did not fit, but I wore it anyway to justify having it.
- One of those bowling glove/carpal tunnel syndrome fixer hand things
-A beach towel previously owned by a professional hockey player
- A statue of Marge Schott
-Some strange medicine from China that makes you poop, pee, and hallucinate about large kittens all at the same time.
-One Moose
-A bunch of hamburger patties that wound up in my freezer.
-Skim cat milk.
-A false Declaration of Independence
-A rogue Tylenol PM that lived on my dorm room floor for months. We even vacuumed around it.
-A bunch of pubes (In a textbook I had in 9th grade)
-2 folding chairs
-A broken camera
-2 pairs of rusty nipple clamps
-A Garden Weasel
-Noseplugs
-A half used tube of Diaper Rash Ointment
-Kevin McHale
-Penis tweezers
-A bunch of useless self help books (Example: How to be Clinically Depressed and Still get the Morning Paper)
-3 different cement dildos
-22,000 rubber bands
-Everybody Poops on Audio book
-A Fernando Valenzuela rookie card, not autographed by me in a blatant attempt to fleece a childhood friend out of money
-Doyle Brunson's front teeth
-A large vial of Crack (or shaved peanuts)
-A small vial of liquid mercury
-The Zapruder Film
-A term paper that proves conclusively the amount of wood a woodchuck would chuck had he been willing and able to chuck the aforementioned wood.
-A zipper
-A bottle of Salmon flavored Whiskey
-A deck of naked lady playing cards that is all jokers and instruction cards
and
-A bottle of sunshine.
I figure I came out about even in this whole thing, so that made me feel a lot better.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Brian is Eco-Friendly Sort-Of
You know what I can't figure out? How come there's all these shoes on the highway? Why is it that people seem compelled to huck their shoes out the window? And why are the shoes never in pairs? Is there a roving gang of newly peg-legged pirates roaming the countryside littering their now obsolete peg leg shoes? I find this suspicious
I swear, just drive along any thoroughfare for 10 minutes, and you'll see at least one shoe. See, I reserve my special "highway garbage" passes for large things, like urine soaked couches and the large cage I kept that 11 year old in for five years once. Shoes just go in the garbage, people.
Here's another thing I bet only I wish I could do. I would really like to comb the highway for random items, trace them back to the people who they belonged to, and return them. Not because I'm "green" or really all that environmentally conscious, just because it would probably make them unconfortable. The weirder the item, the better too:
Me: Are you Darwin K. Morris?
Guy: Uh yeah.
Me: We traced these 50 bottles of urine back to you. We found them along highways all over the place.
Guy: Um... these aren't..
Me: Sir, let me implore you to be cautious with your bottled urine. Apparently these little buggers have a mind of their own when they're on the road.
How about this for fun. Turn the tables on these litterbugs. Stand on the side of the highway and throw garbage at cars driving by. Fun! The bigger the item the better. Extra credit if it's alive and has pointy talons or a poisonous bite. Then crap in an orange safety cone (the small end) and run off giggling.
I'd just like to mention that I plan on doing all these things before 2010, so look out South Metro near 169....
I swear, just drive along any thoroughfare for 10 minutes, and you'll see at least one shoe. See, I reserve my special "highway garbage" passes for large things, like urine soaked couches and the large cage I kept that 11 year old in for five years once. Shoes just go in the garbage, people.
Here's another thing I bet only I wish I could do. I would really like to comb the highway for random items, trace them back to the people who they belonged to, and return them. Not because I'm "green" or really all that environmentally conscious, just because it would probably make them unconfortable. The weirder the item, the better too:
Me: Are you Darwin K. Morris?
Guy: Uh yeah.
Me: We traced these 50 bottles of urine back to you. We found them along highways all over the place.
Guy: Um... these aren't..
Me: Sir, let me implore you to be cautious with your bottled urine. Apparently these little buggers have a mind of their own when they're on the road.
How about this for fun. Turn the tables on these litterbugs. Stand on the side of the highway and throw garbage at cars driving by. Fun! The bigger the item the better. Extra credit if it's alive and has pointy talons or a poisonous bite. Then crap in an orange safety cone (the small end) and run off giggling.
I'd just like to mention that I plan on doing all these things before 2010, so look out South Metro near 169....
Friday, October 16, 2009
Kid Cartoon Reviews
Recently the kids have been home with the H1N1, or some derivative of it, so we've spent a lot of time laying around watching kid stuff on TV. What follows is a review of some of our current favorites:
Scooby Doo-First off, the plot is the exact same every time. A monster pops out and cackles. Then the gang is driving around aimlessly, apparently looking for mysteries. They find a mystery to solve. They split up to look for clues. Shaggy and Scooby get scared and also eat things. Fred and Daphne go in the corner and hump. Velma's glasses fall off. They accidentally catch the monster and reveal that he is Mr Carruthers, the janitor. They unravel the flimsy evil plan for the benefit of the police. There is usually dry ice involved. Scooby and Shaggy eat more things. The end.
In newer episodes, however, the ghosts have become real, instead of Mr Carruthers, the janitor, which sort of ruins the "everything can be explained by a greedy jerk" thesis the old show had going for it. Heck, I even saw a 20 foot tall glowing red Chupacabra, when in actuality they are supposed to look like a hairless coyote. Then we watched "A pup named Scooby Doo" where the plot was totally implausable, even for a cartoon, which is saying a lot. An example: Burglars were chasing the gang, who are all kids now for some reason, so they jerry-rigged a Home Alone type device to foil the burglars. So a burglar ran in and a tennis racket hit him in the face. Normally, you'd go "Ow" and maybe have a bloody nose. In this case however, the burglar flew backwards, out the door, over the trees, and into a whole other country where he landed on the beach and made a giant hole, which he then climbed out of, stole a rowboat, rowed back to the correct country, and ran back to the house, all in a span of 5 seconds or so. Even the kids were skeptical of this scenario.
The Jetsons- Possibly the most sexist cartoon ever. I guess it was made in the 60's, so that was acceptable then, but I found myself almost being offended, and I'm me. Women drivers are feared, Jane spends all day shopping (How do you spend all day shopping, every day?). Mr Spacely is a jerky midget, George's job consists of pushing one button and then sleeping, and this bank robber named Knuckles Nuclear seems to appear in every episode. Also, your food is all in pill form, which sucks.
MVP-Most Valuable Primate- Almost as implausable as the plots from "A pup named Scooby Doo". A monkey, who lives at a college with an old man and a retarded dude and is really smart, runs away when the old man dies because the jerkface dean is going to sell him to a research lab. The retarded guy puts him on a train and tells him to get off at "Simian Village" or something like that. Here's where it really gets tough to believe. He's leaving from LA. The stops on the train are San Francisco, Simian Village, Portland, Seattle, Vancouver, and Bumblefuck, BC. Let's see, 4 giant metropolises, a monkey village, and a frozen noplace. Right. The monkey, of course, winds up in Bumblefuck, BC, where he is befriended by a deaf girl and becomes the star of the hockey team. What strikes me is that somebody actually had to look at this plot and say, "Yes, I think this will serve our viewers well. Go with the 'Runaway Monkey Hockey Star' movie". Funniest part of the movie bar none: The deaf girl is talking like deaf people talk. Bella says to me, "This girl talks worse than Miles." She is 5. He is 3. I am dying laughing.
Higglytown Heroes- Obviously thought up by someone on meth. Everyone in the show are Russian Nesting Dolls, and when the smaller ones get frightened, they hop inside the bigger ones, regardless if the bigger ones like it or not. This could, theoretically, lead to a situation, like the Apocalypse, where the biggest person in the world could be hopped into by the rest of the 6.791 billion people, which would surely cause some gastrointestinal discomfort. Also, the squirrel is voiced by the secretary from Ferris Bueller's Day Off with a weird Fargo accent. Just makes the show more bizarre.
Handy Manny- Wilmer Valderrama's attempt to become the most sensible kids show since Mr Rogers, which it is, but even with the anthropomorphic tools, it's really boring. The antithesis to the "A Pup Named Scooby Doo" plots, these center around Handy Manny being hard working and resourceful, while his tools bicker about stuff. Remember when your mom used to put Mr Rogers on to make you settle down, because it took him 10 minutes to change shoes and put on a gay sweater? This is Handy Manny.
Mickey Mouse Clubhouse- Finally, a show that would make Walt Disney mad enough to break out of the cryogenic chamber he's stored in along with Ted Williams' head, John Henry Williams' testicles, and Austin Powers' mojo. Mickey and friends are all CG now (take that Steamboat Willie) and are focusing on problem solving, instead of general hijinks. Pete, from the Beagle Boys, has been reduced to an oppotunistic antagonist, and Donald Duck thinks things out, instead of having the giant spazzes he's known for.
Guess it shows me that I'm getting old, because I'm finding fault in cartoons, but screw you, ours were better...
Scooby Doo-First off, the plot is the exact same every time. A monster pops out and cackles. Then the gang is driving around aimlessly, apparently looking for mysteries. They find a mystery to solve. They split up to look for clues. Shaggy and Scooby get scared and also eat things. Fred and Daphne go in the corner and hump. Velma's glasses fall off. They accidentally catch the monster and reveal that he is Mr Carruthers, the janitor. They unravel the flimsy evil plan for the benefit of the police. There is usually dry ice involved. Scooby and Shaggy eat more things. The end.
In newer episodes, however, the ghosts have become real, instead of Mr Carruthers, the janitor, which sort of ruins the "everything can be explained by a greedy jerk" thesis the old show had going for it. Heck, I even saw a 20 foot tall glowing red Chupacabra, when in actuality they are supposed to look like a hairless coyote. Then we watched "A pup named Scooby Doo" where the plot was totally implausable, even for a cartoon, which is saying a lot. An example: Burglars were chasing the gang, who are all kids now for some reason, so they jerry-rigged a Home Alone type device to foil the burglars. So a burglar ran in and a tennis racket hit him in the face. Normally, you'd go "Ow" and maybe have a bloody nose. In this case however, the burglar flew backwards, out the door, over the trees, and into a whole other country where he landed on the beach and made a giant hole, which he then climbed out of, stole a rowboat, rowed back to the correct country, and ran back to the house, all in a span of 5 seconds or so. Even the kids were skeptical of this scenario.
The Jetsons- Possibly the most sexist cartoon ever. I guess it was made in the 60's, so that was acceptable then, but I found myself almost being offended, and I'm me. Women drivers are feared, Jane spends all day shopping (How do you spend all day shopping, every day?). Mr Spacely is a jerky midget, George's job consists of pushing one button and then sleeping, and this bank robber named Knuckles Nuclear seems to appear in every episode. Also, your food is all in pill form, which sucks.
MVP-Most Valuable Primate- Almost as implausable as the plots from "A pup named Scooby Doo". A monkey, who lives at a college with an old man and a retarded dude and is really smart, runs away when the old man dies because the jerkface dean is going to sell him to a research lab. The retarded guy puts him on a train and tells him to get off at "Simian Village" or something like that. Here's where it really gets tough to believe. He's leaving from LA. The stops on the train are San Francisco, Simian Village, Portland, Seattle, Vancouver, and Bumblefuck, BC. Let's see, 4 giant metropolises, a monkey village, and a frozen noplace. Right. The monkey, of course, winds up in Bumblefuck, BC, where he is befriended by a deaf girl and becomes the star of the hockey team. What strikes me is that somebody actually had to look at this plot and say, "Yes, I think this will serve our viewers well. Go with the 'Runaway Monkey Hockey Star' movie". Funniest part of the movie bar none: The deaf girl is talking like deaf people talk. Bella says to me, "This girl talks worse than Miles." She is 5. He is 3. I am dying laughing.
Higglytown Heroes- Obviously thought up by someone on meth. Everyone in the show are Russian Nesting Dolls, and when the smaller ones get frightened, they hop inside the bigger ones, regardless if the bigger ones like it or not. This could, theoretically, lead to a situation, like the Apocalypse, where the biggest person in the world could be hopped into by the rest of the 6.791 billion people, which would surely cause some gastrointestinal discomfort. Also, the squirrel is voiced by the secretary from Ferris Bueller's Day Off with a weird Fargo accent. Just makes the show more bizarre.
Handy Manny- Wilmer Valderrama's attempt to become the most sensible kids show since Mr Rogers, which it is, but even with the anthropomorphic tools, it's really boring. The antithesis to the "A Pup Named Scooby Doo" plots, these center around Handy Manny being hard working and resourceful, while his tools bicker about stuff. Remember when your mom used to put Mr Rogers on to make you settle down, because it took him 10 minutes to change shoes and put on a gay sweater? This is Handy Manny.
Mickey Mouse Clubhouse- Finally, a show that would make Walt Disney mad enough to break out of the cryogenic chamber he's stored in along with Ted Williams' head, John Henry Williams' testicles, and Austin Powers' mojo. Mickey and friends are all CG now (take that Steamboat Willie) and are focusing on problem solving, instead of general hijinks. Pete, from the Beagle Boys, has been reduced to an oppotunistic antagonist, and Donald Duck thinks things out, instead of having the giant spazzes he's known for.
Guess it shows me that I'm getting old, because I'm finding fault in cartoons, but screw you, ours were better...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Skotes' Wedding Reception
So since I've been requested to write about Skotes' wedding reception, I figured I might as well break it down by the minute, as I remember it. If you remember something differently, chances are you were drunk.
7:30 PM: I leave my house. I ask Amy to read the directions to the Gale Mansion on the invite. She looks at the invite. There is a small, rudimentary map drawn on it in colored pencil. It says, "For complete directions, look on the internet." This angers me.
7:47 PM: Driving aimlessly around South Minneapolis, hoping to avoid gang wars and crack dealers. The invite says that the Gale Mansion is in the "Mansion District". I didn't know there was a mansion district. I am lost.
7:58 PM: Accidentally find the correct mansion. There is no place to park nearby. Amy suggests we use valet. I am convinced the Valet drivers will steal my truck and go joyriding, a la Ferris Bueller's Day Off. We drive around the block.
8:01 PM: We are on the next block. There is a small insane asylum on this block. Insane people are milling around the front of it, most likely doing very insane things. There are parking spots by the insane people. We do not park there. KT does and apparently lives to tell about it.
8:04: We park a few blocks away by a park. We begin to walk to the mansion. I get paranoid that my lights are malfunctioning and will not turn off and my battery will die and the insane people will boil Amy and I alive in a large cauldron as we are leaving. I stand and stare at my truck for 3 minutes until the lights go off.
8:07: We enter the mansion. The first thing I notice is that I am the most casually dressed person in there. I mention this revelation to Amy. She tells me I am ALWAYS the most casually dressed person anywhere. I am somewhat hurt by her candor.
8:08: We run into Little Ras. I told him beforehand that I was wearing a yellow shirt and khakis and that he should do the same because then we'd look like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito in Twins. Obviously he has not taken my advice because he is dressed more nicely than me.
8:11: I learn that we are not being served dinner. I am hungry and angry about this. A waiter carrying a tray of meatballs walks by. I grab many meatballs and eat them quickly. They are spicier than I had assumed. I say, "That's one spicy Meat-za-ball!!" to no one in particular. The waiter and Ras laugh at me. I notice that the waiter is actually a waitress with boy hair. This confuses my loins.
8:17: Goose is looking bald and dapper. He's telling a story about how a kid he coached at Hamline is doing well in Rookie Ball. I tell him the kid is in "A" ball. He says something snotty along the lines of, "I think I know my own players." I tell him he is an idiot and we bet two dollars. He text messages the kid. "A" ball. I now only owe Goose 48 dollars which he may or may not ever receive.
8:19: Matty G calls someone and says he'll be there in 10 minutes. "10 minutes" is a Matty G euphemism for "A really long time from now." We all will be surprised if he makes it by 9.
8:25: I spill a bunch of water on the floor and then blame the pitcher it came in. I also eat some item containing seafood solely because it came by on a tray carried by the boy/girl waiter/waitress.
8:30: Amy and Jane are sitting on a couch talking about uninteresting things. I tell them they are sitting on a fainting couch. They tell me I am wrong. Screw them. Like they know much about fainting couches. It was a fainting couch, deal with it.
8:31: Deets arrives and apologizes for being late. We tell him he beat Matty G. He takes absolutely no solace in this fact.
8:40: Still haven't met Skotes' new bride. We begin to openly question whether or not there is a bride, or whether Skotes just gave up and married Matt B.
9:02: Matty G arrives with much fanfare, looking very satisfied with himself.
9:10: Matt B and the maid of honor give speeches. Apparently there are numerous people in the crowd who got married on Sept 11, including Matt B which lends further credence to the now oft repeated rumor that Matt B and Skotes are married to each other. I am trapped behind many women and a glass door so I can't see anything. I try to duck down and stand up on my tiptoes so I can see the two people giving speeches by staring underneath a lady's armpit or over her head. I notice that another woman is doing this as well. We notice each other. I laugh and remark that it's like we're on a teeter-totter together. She either does not understand, or she thinks I'm creepy. She moves away from me.
9:15: The lobby is crowded. Someone mentions that there is a porch upstairs. We decide to form a clique of old baseball players and their wives and girlfriends and head up there. I load up on appy's first along with Little Ras. The appy's consist of millions of different kinds of cheese, crackers, and little racks of lamb. I grab a pound of cheese and crackers, and 2 little lambs. I shove Little Ras forward when he gets distracted by something shiny because I don't want to walk up the stairs alone with that much cheese and crackers.
9:16: The porch we heard about is filled with many people laughing obnoxiously. I sit down in the lobby in a fainting chair (Screw you, that's what it is) and begin shoveling cheese and crackers into my mouth. Amy comes over and steals one of my baby lambs. I look at her with utter contempt but continue eating cheese and crackers. One of the cheeses smells exactly like feet. I eat it anyway. It's not bad. Goose begins channeling his inner bartender (or inner bitch) and fetching drinks for any and all who request them.
9:40: We move to a different upstairs room, painted pink and with many frilly, lace valances topping the windows. Half the team turns gay.
9:45: Food begins telling an outrageous story that nearly justifies becoming a level 3 sex offender in his mind, about a young-ish girl who stripped naked and asked him to "fuck her brains." We are all perplexed at this. "Did she say 'out'?" I ask in horror. Laughter ensues, but I am thinking that doing anything to anyone's brains is at best gross and at worst criminal. The picture in my mind frightens me all night.
9:50: Goose is on his 3rd beer and mentions how drunk he is getting. We roll our eyes at him. He then begins to tell many stories, some funny, but most only partially relevant. I learn that he hit a guy in the leg with a golf ball and didn't even have the decency to yell "fore" or "look out" beforehand. He also mentions he wants to have a party where everybody hangs out and gets really drunk. No one pays attention to him.
9:55: I go looking for a place to pee, preferably a bathroom. I find one but Goose is outside banging on the door and the pee zips back up into my kidneys. I tell him to stop, but once he's had 3 beers, apparently it's a waste of time. I finally pee and leave. He goes in and stays in there for a while. Nobody knows what he is doing.
10:00: Someone keeps trying to open the door behind the wives and girlfriends. This scares them.
10:05: A cameraman comes in and starts taking many pictures. People are annoyed by him for some reason but he is oblivious to this. Hoping to distract them, I take a circular cracker from the large plate of cheese and crackers, say "Body of Christ", and place the entire thing in my mouth, like communion. It barely fits and my mouth gets all dry from chewing it up. People are confused by my behavior, especially Jess, who begins questioning my sanity.
10:15: I go to get more baby lambs since Amy ate 50% of my lambs before. To my horror, the lambs have been replaced with cake. I look all around for more lambs, even under the table. I find none. I am sad to the point of crying. We bring up a lot of cake.
10:16: We couldn't find any forks. Food goes away for a while, and returns with many forks. He is hailed as a hero/sexual deviant.
10:20: Matt B comes into the pink room and continues an argument that has been going on since Skotes bachelor party that Skotes throws harder than Matty G, but with less command. This argument has gotten tiresome. We still have not met the bride so it stands to reason that Matt B. is sticking up for Skotes in this argument because they are married.
10:40: We finally meet the bride. She is very pretty and seems to genuinely like Skotes. Myth, busted.
10:45: 3 conversations about fantasy football break out simultaneously. The girls start yawning. Goose is near a coma. The end is near.
11:00: Everyone abruptly gets up and leaves including Natron (who hasn't been mentioned yet), and his girlfriend (who is cool because she went to USD, like me.)
11:01: I give the photographer a friendly pat on the butt as I walk out. I'm not sure why.
11:05: We say our goodbyes and walk to our cars. I tell KT and Jess to scream loudly if they are attacked by a roving gang of lunatics on the way to their car. I hear nothing so I assume they're OK.
Congrats Skotes. It was a fun and entertaining night.
7:30 PM: I leave my house. I ask Amy to read the directions to the Gale Mansion on the invite. She looks at the invite. There is a small, rudimentary map drawn on it in colored pencil. It says, "For complete directions, look on the internet." This angers me.
7:47 PM: Driving aimlessly around South Minneapolis, hoping to avoid gang wars and crack dealers. The invite says that the Gale Mansion is in the "Mansion District". I didn't know there was a mansion district. I am lost.
7:58 PM: Accidentally find the correct mansion. There is no place to park nearby. Amy suggests we use valet. I am convinced the Valet drivers will steal my truck and go joyriding, a la Ferris Bueller's Day Off. We drive around the block.
8:01 PM: We are on the next block. There is a small insane asylum on this block. Insane people are milling around the front of it, most likely doing very insane things. There are parking spots by the insane people. We do not park there. KT does and apparently lives to tell about it.
8:04: We park a few blocks away by a park. We begin to walk to the mansion. I get paranoid that my lights are malfunctioning and will not turn off and my battery will die and the insane people will boil Amy and I alive in a large cauldron as we are leaving. I stand and stare at my truck for 3 minutes until the lights go off.
8:07: We enter the mansion. The first thing I notice is that I am the most casually dressed person in there. I mention this revelation to Amy. She tells me I am ALWAYS the most casually dressed person anywhere. I am somewhat hurt by her candor.
8:08: We run into Little Ras. I told him beforehand that I was wearing a yellow shirt and khakis and that he should do the same because then we'd look like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito in Twins. Obviously he has not taken my advice because he is dressed more nicely than me.
8:11: I learn that we are not being served dinner. I am hungry and angry about this. A waiter carrying a tray of meatballs walks by. I grab many meatballs and eat them quickly. They are spicier than I had assumed. I say, "That's one spicy Meat-za-ball!!" to no one in particular. The waiter and Ras laugh at me. I notice that the waiter is actually a waitress with boy hair. This confuses my loins.
8:17: Goose is looking bald and dapper. He's telling a story about how a kid he coached at Hamline is doing well in Rookie Ball. I tell him the kid is in "A" ball. He says something snotty along the lines of, "I think I know my own players." I tell him he is an idiot and we bet two dollars. He text messages the kid. "A" ball. I now only owe Goose 48 dollars which he may or may not ever receive.
8:19: Matty G calls someone and says he'll be there in 10 minutes. "10 minutes" is a Matty G euphemism for "A really long time from now." We all will be surprised if he makes it by 9.
8:25: I spill a bunch of water on the floor and then blame the pitcher it came in. I also eat some item containing seafood solely because it came by on a tray carried by the boy/girl waiter/waitress.
8:30: Amy and Jane are sitting on a couch talking about uninteresting things. I tell them they are sitting on a fainting couch. They tell me I am wrong. Screw them. Like they know much about fainting couches. It was a fainting couch, deal with it.
8:31: Deets arrives and apologizes for being late. We tell him he beat Matty G. He takes absolutely no solace in this fact.
8:40: Still haven't met Skotes' new bride. We begin to openly question whether or not there is a bride, or whether Skotes just gave up and married Matt B.
9:02: Matty G arrives with much fanfare, looking very satisfied with himself.
9:10: Matt B and the maid of honor give speeches. Apparently there are numerous people in the crowd who got married on Sept 11, including Matt B which lends further credence to the now oft repeated rumor that Matt B and Skotes are married to each other. I am trapped behind many women and a glass door so I can't see anything. I try to duck down and stand up on my tiptoes so I can see the two people giving speeches by staring underneath a lady's armpit or over her head. I notice that another woman is doing this as well. We notice each other. I laugh and remark that it's like we're on a teeter-totter together. She either does not understand, or she thinks I'm creepy. She moves away from me.
9:15: The lobby is crowded. Someone mentions that there is a porch upstairs. We decide to form a clique of old baseball players and their wives and girlfriends and head up there. I load up on appy's first along with Little Ras. The appy's consist of millions of different kinds of cheese, crackers, and little racks of lamb. I grab a pound of cheese and crackers, and 2 little lambs. I shove Little Ras forward when he gets distracted by something shiny because I don't want to walk up the stairs alone with that much cheese and crackers.
9:16: The porch we heard about is filled with many people laughing obnoxiously. I sit down in the lobby in a fainting chair (Screw you, that's what it is) and begin shoveling cheese and crackers into my mouth. Amy comes over and steals one of my baby lambs. I look at her with utter contempt but continue eating cheese and crackers. One of the cheeses smells exactly like feet. I eat it anyway. It's not bad. Goose begins channeling his inner bartender (or inner bitch) and fetching drinks for any and all who request them.
9:40: We move to a different upstairs room, painted pink and with many frilly, lace valances topping the windows. Half the team turns gay.
9:45: Food begins telling an outrageous story that nearly justifies becoming a level 3 sex offender in his mind, about a young-ish girl who stripped naked and asked him to "fuck her brains." We are all perplexed at this. "Did she say 'out'?" I ask in horror. Laughter ensues, but I am thinking that doing anything to anyone's brains is at best gross and at worst criminal. The picture in my mind frightens me all night.
9:50: Goose is on his 3rd beer and mentions how drunk he is getting. We roll our eyes at him. He then begins to tell many stories, some funny, but most only partially relevant. I learn that he hit a guy in the leg with a golf ball and didn't even have the decency to yell "fore" or "look out" beforehand. He also mentions he wants to have a party where everybody hangs out and gets really drunk. No one pays attention to him.
9:55: I go looking for a place to pee, preferably a bathroom. I find one but Goose is outside banging on the door and the pee zips back up into my kidneys. I tell him to stop, but once he's had 3 beers, apparently it's a waste of time. I finally pee and leave. He goes in and stays in there for a while. Nobody knows what he is doing.
10:00: Someone keeps trying to open the door behind the wives and girlfriends. This scares them.
10:05: A cameraman comes in and starts taking many pictures. People are annoyed by him for some reason but he is oblivious to this. Hoping to distract them, I take a circular cracker from the large plate of cheese and crackers, say "Body of Christ", and place the entire thing in my mouth, like communion. It barely fits and my mouth gets all dry from chewing it up. People are confused by my behavior, especially Jess, who begins questioning my sanity.
10:15: I go to get more baby lambs since Amy ate 50% of my lambs before. To my horror, the lambs have been replaced with cake. I look all around for more lambs, even under the table. I find none. I am sad to the point of crying. We bring up a lot of cake.
10:16: We couldn't find any forks. Food goes away for a while, and returns with many forks. He is hailed as a hero/sexual deviant.
10:20: Matt B comes into the pink room and continues an argument that has been going on since Skotes bachelor party that Skotes throws harder than Matty G, but with less command. This argument has gotten tiresome. We still have not met the bride so it stands to reason that Matt B. is sticking up for Skotes in this argument because they are married.
10:40: We finally meet the bride. She is very pretty and seems to genuinely like Skotes. Myth, busted.
10:45: 3 conversations about fantasy football break out simultaneously. The girls start yawning. Goose is near a coma. The end is near.
11:00: Everyone abruptly gets up and leaves including Natron (who hasn't been mentioned yet), and his girlfriend (who is cool because she went to USD, like me.)
11:01: I give the photographer a friendly pat on the butt as I walk out. I'm not sure why.
11:05: We say our goodbyes and walk to our cars. I tell KT and Jess to scream loudly if they are attacked by a roving gang of lunatics on the way to their car. I hear nothing so I assume they're OK.
Congrats Skotes. It was a fun and entertaining night.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Brian goes to Victoria's Secret
I've figured out over the years that I'm not that much of a fashionista. I'm usually the most casually dressed guy at a wedding, I'm not sure where my dress socks are, and I wear a t-shirt and shorts to work every day (unless it's really cold, then I wear jeans and a hoodie), and one time I forgot to wear shoes. I'll probably be called a sexual predator before I'm called a metrosexual.
Sometimes I go to Victoria's Secret though, to pick out clothes and stuff for my wife, and when I say "stuff" I mean underwear that shows your whole butt (but not your butthole). You'd think this would be a recipe for disaster, and that I'd come home with stuff 8 sizes too big, and garments that were just plain goofy looking, but you'd be wrong.
For some reason, and I haven't quite figured it out yet, Victoria's Secret employees love me, like straight, done-a-bunch-of-ecstacy love. Perhaps it's all about the sale, and these employees are nothing more than clothed prostitutes selling things other than space in their various orifices, but I tend to believe I'm actually really likable because of how naive I act in the presence of hot chicks and skimpy butt huggers.
I've developed a foolproof method for getting help picking out items at Victoria's Secret. It goes like this.
1.) Wander into the store looking overwhelmed, but excited, like you just tripped and fell into a pile of naked ladies.
2.) Grab a pair of underpants and hold them up to a light, like you're trying to see through them. This will let people know that you're serious about being in the store, and you aren't just here to ogle the mannequins.
3.) Look around for an employee that is approximately the same size as my wife. I can't for the life of me ever remember her measurements, the only thing that comes to mind is 4T, and I'm pretty sure that's for my son, and I had a really awkward encounter about 5 years ago at Sears with a chunky sales girl.
Me: I need a blue shirt for a girl.
Chunky Sales Girl: Like a sweater?
Me: No, with buttons and stuff, you know, like a button shirt or whatever...
CSG: Ohhhh Kay. Um, what size is she?
Me: I don't know, is little a size?
CSG: Not really. Is she like me?
Me: Not really. I said little. (This qualifies as one of "those things" that accidentally slips out of my mouth periodically)
CSG: Well, look over there. (Points ambiguously to a large section of the store and angrily stampedes off)
That's why I look for somebody the same size.
4.) When you find her, begin stalking around her looking at items, even if she's in the socks section. Eventually she will ask you if you need help finding something.
5.) I usually reply to this by saying something like, "I need some underpants. For my wife. She's a girl. Like you."
6.) She'll bring me over to the underpants area and ask what size she is. This is one of the only times, outside of the strib club, where it's perfectly acceptable to stare at her goods for a long time, before you reply, "about your size."
7.) Victoria's Secret employees really like this. The girl will then go out of her way to describe various articles of clothing, and why they are or are not sexy. This is fun for everyone. She might even bring other girls over for their opinions. This is the closest I will ever get to one of those "naked slumber parties" with pillow fights and serious girl-on-girl action that I see on Cinemax periodically, so I will milk it for all it's worth.
One note of warning here. Occasionally there is a guy working at Victoria's Secret. If a guy ever comes over and tries to help you, punch him in the crotch as hard as you can and then quickly, and covertly, leave the entire mall. For security purposes, it may be a good idea to never return.
Again, this method is foolproof, if you do it correctly. If it doesn't work for you, you are obviously a gross pervert and you should go directly to jail.
Sometimes I go to Victoria's Secret though, to pick out clothes and stuff for my wife, and when I say "stuff" I mean underwear that shows your whole butt (but not your butthole). You'd think this would be a recipe for disaster, and that I'd come home with stuff 8 sizes too big, and garments that were just plain goofy looking, but you'd be wrong.
For some reason, and I haven't quite figured it out yet, Victoria's Secret employees love me, like straight, done-a-bunch-of-ecstacy love. Perhaps it's all about the sale, and these employees are nothing more than clothed prostitutes selling things other than space in their various orifices, but I tend to believe I'm actually really likable because of how naive I act in the presence of hot chicks and skimpy butt huggers.
I've developed a foolproof method for getting help picking out items at Victoria's Secret. It goes like this.
1.) Wander into the store looking overwhelmed, but excited, like you just tripped and fell into a pile of naked ladies.
2.) Grab a pair of underpants and hold them up to a light, like you're trying to see through them. This will let people know that you're serious about being in the store, and you aren't just here to ogle the mannequins.
3.) Look around for an employee that is approximately the same size as my wife. I can't for the life of me ever remember her measurements, the only thing that comes to mind is 4T, and I'm pretty sure that's for my son, and I had a really awkward encounter about 5 years ago at Sears with a chunky sales girl.
Me: I need a blue shirt for a girl.
Chunky Sales Girl: Like a sweater?
Me: No, with buttons and stuff, you know, like a button shirt or whatever...
CSG: Ohhhh Kay. Um, what size is she?
Me: I don't know, is little a size?
CSG: Not really. Is she like me?
Me: Not really. I said little. (This qualifies as one of "those things" that accidentally slips out of my mouth periodically)
CSG: Well, look over there. (Points ambiguously to a large section of the store and angrily stampedes off)
That's why I look for somebody the same size.
4.) When you find her, begin stalking around her looking at items, even if she's in the socks section. Eventually she will ask you if you need help finding something.
5.) I usually reply to this by saying something like, "I need some underpants. For my wife. She's a girl. Like you."
6.) She'll bring me over to the underpants area and ask what size she is. This is one of the only times, outside of the strib club, where it's perfectly acceptable to stare at her goods for a long time, before you reply, "about your size."
7.) Victoria's Secret employees really like this. The girl will then go out of her way to describe various articles of clothing, and why they are or are not sexy. This is fun for everyone. She might even bring other girls over for their opinions. This is the closest I will ever get to one of those "naked slumber parties" with pillow fights and serious girl-on-girl action that I see on Cinemax periodically, so I will milk it for all it's worth.
One note of warning here. Occasionally there is a guy working at Victoria's Secret. If a guy ever comes over and tries to help you, punch him in the crotch as hard as you can and then quickly, and covertly, leave the entire mall. For security purposes, it may be a good idea to never return.
Again, this method is foolproof, if you do it correctly. If it doesn't work for you, you are obviously a gross pervert and you should go directly to jail.
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