Tales from the Park District

Lately I have had the blessing of working out at the Schaumburg Park District.  A place that is tiny, hot, and smells terrible.  We’re not talking about the standard gym “man smell”…we’re talking “retirement home smell”.  If I were to estimate, I would say the mean age is around 60 with the median age at about 50.  Minimal eye candy to say the least.

Peppered in among the elderly are a fair amount of douche bags.  Guys who probably work at Jiffy Lube by day and huff wood glue in their basements by night.  Losers.  Tools who think they’re at Venice-fucking-Beach and pump themselves up audibly before every set.  Look, I’m no Lou Ferrigno, but if you’re lifting half the weight I am and I’m not making a sound...you need to shut the fuck up.  Damn that pisses me off.

All these losers seem to have one thing in common…they wear tank tops.  I don’t know when it happened, but apparently a memo went out to all of America explaining that if you are lifting weights, you have to wear a tank top.  Was there a 28^th amendment to the constitution?  Must have missed that one.

Of all the douche bags at the park district, one is my favorite…Basketball Jersey Guy.  This guy is there just about every time I am there and is ALWAYS wearing a basketball jersery.  I’ve only counted three so far…I can’t imagine how anyone could own more.

What jerseys does Basketball Jersey Guy wear?  These three jerseys:

Jersey #1 – Kentucky Wildcats – 33

Who wore number 33 at Kentucky?  Ron Mercer.  Yes, this homo is rocking a Ron Mercer Kentucky jersey!  Who the fuck has a Ron Mercer jersey?  Who the fuck is wearing it in 2009?  Basketball Jersey Guy.

Jersey #2 – Chicago Bulls – 33

Oh yes…Scottie Pippen.  Does this guy think he’s being “trendy” and “vintage”?  No…he’s just a poor bastard who, apparently, loves the number 33.

Jersey #3 – Michigan Wolverines – 33

This one took a little research…Cazzie Russel.  Who is Cazzie Russell?  Some dude who played at Michigan in the ‘60s.  I bet this guy doesn’t even know who the guy is…he just LOVES the number 33 and in 1996, when he bought his other jerseys, he though, “Yeah…I’m going to the University of Michigan.”  Really dude?  I bet Basketball Jersey Guy failed out of Barber College because he couldn’t spell sizzors.

 

A Letter to Engineering Companies

Dear Engineering Companies,

Stop wasting my fucking time!  Please update the “careers”, “employment opportunities”, and similar links on your company websites.  I’m tired of writing intelligent, impeccable cover letters and emails to you people for jobs that don’t exist.  That’s right…you people.  You people think you’re so clever…so much better than me.  Ooh…look at me…I have a fancy job that I go to everyday and get paid for it and I think it’s fun to waste the time of the unemployed.  Get off your high-fucking-horse and update your website.  If a job isn’t available anymore…take it off!

Eat shit,

DR

 

Capri Pants

Yesterday, a young lady I know posed a very interesting question to me via email.  It was a topic I hadn’t thought about in a while and hadn’t discussed openly for even longer.  I feel it is something that the readers of this blog should know about.  My thoughts on capri pants:

Q:  What are your thoughts on capri pants?

A:  For men…no.  For women…yes.  For attractive women…white.

 

The First 100 Days

What has Barack been up to?  Finding me a job?  No.  Curing swine flu?  No.  Bullshitting with Billy?  You betcha.

 

Kickass Videos

“Fresh” by Daft Punk

“Stan” by Eminem…sorry Dido

“I Believe in a Thing Called Love” by The Darkness

“Rebel, Rebel” by David Bowie

“Groove Is in the Heart” by Deee-Lite

 

Lunchbox’s Dreams

Since David’s Corner sucks, I’ve decided to close today’s post with a new segment called “Lunchbox’s Dreams”.  This is the story of a dream that he sent to me this morning.  He doesn’t know I’m posting it.  Hopefully, he won’t mind.

Before you ask...no, this probably isn't "blog-worthy"...I'm just too lazy to write my own shit.  No pun intended.

So I am at a hotel in Cadillac, MI and the wake-up call got me out of the weirdest dream.

All of our friends were at some hotel that was either in Nebraska or Wyoming.  I'm not sure if we were there for vacation or a wedding.  The only reason I remember about the location, is because I remember bitching about the drive.  Anyway, somehow my room reservation got screwed up and I was in a room with 3 girls I didn't know that well.  Of course, when I got to the room, there were 2 regular beds and one bunk bed, and the top bunk was all that was left.  Then the rest of the dream was me really having to take a crap, and not wanting to do it in this close quarters room with these chicks I barely knew.  Every time I would think they were gone, I'd go back to use the crapper and they were there.  Finally, I decided to negotiate a deal with DR.  DR had a single room, and I ended up offering him $3 to go use his bathroom...he agreed.  When I got to his room, there were about 12 people inside waiting to use his bathroom.  DR didn't know these people were in there.  They were partying and trashing his place. Also there was porn on the TV, but it wasn't even porn.  It was just people sliding down mud slides and eating human crap.  Big Spender was there, and I think he was responsible for this poor choice in video.  I was pissed because I really wanted to use the toilet and now, besides the line for the bathroom, the place was being treated like a bar, and I was sure that the toilet was going to be disgusting.

I'm pissed my wake-up call woke me.  I really wanted to see where this one was going.

Goodbye Bea Arthur

“Every time a stripper earns a master’s degree, a Golden Girl dies.”

-          DR, 2008

It has been a rough couple of days for me.  As many of you know, Bea Arthur has passed away.  I’m sure many of you also know that Bea was my favorite Golden Girl.  In fact, this isn’t the first time I’ve brought her up on this blog.

From The Greatest Blog Post in the History of Mankind (March 12, 2009):

Thinking about pyramids brings up my favorite Golden Girls conversation of all time.  Dorothy and Rose are trying to install a new toilet and are having some trouble…

Rose:  If the Egyptians can build the pyramids, we can do this.

Dorothy:  Fine, go get me 10,000 Jews and I’ll be right there.

Her impeccable timing and dry delivery made Dorothy Zbornak one of the greatest female characters of television and film history.  Bea Arthur made Golden Girls what it was.  It can be argued that without Bea Arthur, we would never have had Empty Nest.  Frankly, I don’t want to live in a world without Empty Next.

Bea Arthur was more than just dry humor on a show full of geriatrics.  She was hilarious on the Comedy Central roast of Pam Anderson a few years back.  She also sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” at a Cubs game during the Summer of Dan (2001)…I was there.  We will all greatly miss Bea.

Beatrice “Bea” Arthur (May 13, 1922 – April 25, 2009)

Bea Arthur…you better be saving me a seat in hell…preferably near the bar.

 

Jesus of Nazareth

McG sent this to me.  Fuck, people are stupid.

 

What have you been up to?

I graduated high school in 1999.  It is now 2009.  Can you guess what that means?  High school reunion time baby!!!  That’s right folks…believe it or not…I came from somewhere.

Of course, the only information about this event is on Facebook – a website I do not participate in – so I had to have David (formerly of David’s Corner) send me the info.  I asked if he could just forward my info on and take care of it all for me…he did.  Here is an abridged version of the email David sent:

Subject: On behalf of Dan R.
Date: Mon, 27 Apr 2009 10:23:39 -0500

Due to a case of cyberphobia, Dan R. is unable to provide information via e-mail on his own. As his legal guardian, I am authorized to provide this.

Will I attend?  Not sure.  My decision will be based largely on the venue and drink special.  All I know is that if I do attend I will spend a great deal of time at the bar with David and will probably tell a ridiculous number of lies.  I also expect to hear a number of mumbled phrases from the crowd, such as, “Fuck Dan R.” or “Ten years and he’s still an asshole.”  This could be good…maybe even “voice recorder good”.

 

The Wood Makes It Good

Kenny Rogers is more than just a chicken man...and the basis of one of the greatest Seinfeld episodes of all time.  He is an artist.  A musician who has captured the hearts and panties of women from Chatanooga to Spokane and up to Bangor for over thirty years.  I tip my hat to you Kenny.  To you, your music, and your beard.

“Love Will Turn You Around”

“The Gambler”

“Islands in the Stream”

“Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town”

Welcome to the Real World

You never really realize how tough the “real world” is until you live in it.  And no, by “real world” I don’t mean having a job…I mean not having a job.  Does anyone out there realize how expensive office supplies are?  Damn.  I bought a pen, Post-its, paper clips, paper, and envelopes yesterday for…drum roll…$42.  Fuck.  I miss the days of stealing office supplies.  Let me just say this…I don’t want to live in a world where I have to pay for Post-its. 

 

The $7.99 Haircut

As JR has so appropriately stated, “It’s a hard time for all Americans.”  Not only am I paying for my own office supplies, but I’m taking the cheap way out on…yes…haircuts.  For the last four months I’ve been on the 4-guard plan.  I’ve buzzed my own hair with a 4-guard, let it grow for a month or two, rinse and repeat.

Yesterday I drove by a Great Clips that had a sign saying “$7.99 Haircuts”.  I walked in.  Yes…I know…stupid.  Remember what the name of my autobiography is going to be?  Exactly.

When I walked into the store I was greeted by one of the most homosexual men on the face of the Earth.  We’re talking Castro Street meets Fire Island at a Rip Taylor show while drinking a big glass of Harvey Milk.  Yes…that gay…not that there’s anything wrong with it.

So…back to the $7.99 haircut.  What do you think it looks like?  Exactly what you’d imagine it to look like.  Apparently this dude didn’t understand, “Don’t touch the top.”  Kids…when you’re losing hair on top, you don’t want to butcher the top.  I look like Dan Akroyd circa 2001.  Bad.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the guy gave me two necklines.  Two?  Yes…two.  The natural one defined by where the hair stops growing AND the imaginary one about a half-inch above that he made.  Bad.

One last thing…do they no longer charge tax on haircuts?  I gave the dude a twenty and got $12 back.  Is there no tax?  Perhaps a 1 cent tax?  Confused.

 

Brown

Watched Slumdog Millionaire last night…and…I think I have a little thing for the brown.  I’m sure Dr. Mike does too.

 

Friday Beats

“Positive Contact” by Deltron 3030

“A Lap Dance is So Much Better When the Stripper is Crying” by Bloodhound Gang

“Hot N Cold” by Katy Perry

“Young Turks” by Rod Stewart

“This is Your Life” by The Killers

The Adventures of D, D, & D

I was informed by David, formerly of “David’s Corner”, that his post-graduate school career start date has been moved back from September to January.  When he told this to me he started with, “Guess who gets to spend more time together?”  Immediately, I was nervous and uncomfortable.

He then told me that I can be included in the Summer of D & D.  Apparently, he is one of the D’s and his fiancé, Dawn, is the other.  Adding me would make it D, D, & D.

Now, many of you may not know it, but for two weeks during our sophomore year of high school Dawn and I were quite the item.  You could find us walking the hallways together, standing next to each other during that one pep rally, and, you guessed it, making out at Denny’s.

So what will our summer involve?  Adventures.  We’re going to be like the Hardy Boys only with a chick and WAY more booze.  We’re still working out the details but I’m pretty sure I’ll be investing in a magnifying glass and some rope…20, maybe 25 feet.

Let the adventures of D, D, & D begin!

 

Voicemail

It is truly a sad day.  I have changed my voicemail greeting.  What was once the coolest, shortest voicemail greeting of all time is gone.  My new voicemail greeting is longer, more formal, and far less succinct.

It is truly bizarre for me to have had my last voicemail greeting be so short.  I am not a short-winded person by any means.  In fact, just last weekend McG’s father asked me, “Have you ever answered a question with one word?”  My response was, “Well that’s and interesting question John…”  He laughed.  I think he got it.

If any of you want to hear my new voicemail greeting and have my number…go for it.  I won’t answer my phone until Saturday.  You have two days.  Starting…now.

 

The 5:30 Time Slot

I never thought I’d be saying this…I miss Reno, Nevada.  Specifically, I miss Fox 11 Reno.  More specifically, I miss Fox 11 Reno’s 5-8 p.m. programming.  An hour of Seinfeld, an hour of The Simpsons, and an hour of Two and a Half Men…near perfection.  What does Fox 11 Chicago offer us?  TMZ.  Are you serious?  TMZ?  First off, why is this even a show?  It is terrible and worthless…kind of like David’s Corner.

If you like this show or know someone who does…send me the TMZ fan’s address and I will show up and do, whatever I need to do, to ensure these people can never, ever procreate.

One thing, however, that I DO NOT miss are the Mor (furniture for less) commercials.  Fuck that place.

 

Cool Dog

I fucking love this.  Sadly, this is the only ray of sunshine in my terrible, pathetic life.

 

Barack The Vote!

Mr. Obama just gave me a $25 a week unemployment raise AND will be paying for more than half of my COBRA insurance.  Yes!  I can finally ditch my bullshit temporary medical insurance, see a dentist, get new contact lenses, and maybe, just maybe get an MRI of my knee.  God bless America.

Stuck in my head…something for everyone…

“Rebellion” by The Arcade Fire

“Let Down” by Radiohead

“New York Minute” by Don Henley

“No You Girls” by Franz Ferdinand

“Cosmic Girl” by Jamiroquai

“Fidelity” by Regina Spektor...I got them same shoes

“Hold Me” by Fleetwood Mac…yes, it’s true, I really like Christine McVie

 

Black Eyed Peas

Aren’t we all done with these cholos?  I wish they would all just go away.  They think they're all so clever and hip...really chaps my ass.

 

A Special Greeting

Hey Randy.  You still reading this?  You still alive?  You ever think about returning an email?  Motherfucker.

The Road to Dixie is Paved with Assholes

Readers,

It has been a week since I last posted.  Over these past few days I did some travelling.  I drove down to Spartanburg, South Carolina with Lunchbox, Big Spender, and PG-12 (Big Spender’s wife) for McG’s wedding.  Today’s blog post is all about our travels in the dirty south.  Enjoy.

Cordially,

DR

 

Thursday, April 16th

The Drive

I didn’t get much sleep Wednesday night.  Knowing that I had to be awake at 4 a.m. left me rolling in my bed.  Add in Coyote Ugly on Encore on top of that and Dan walks away from the night with three hours of sleep…exactly what you need for a twelve hour drive.

I headed over to Big Spender’s place at 4:45 to pick him up.  Of course, he was late.  The guy with seemingly less of his “shit together” is on time.  Number of others on time…zero.  Big Spender, PG-12, and myself hit the road slightly after 5 a.m. en route to the greater Indianapolis area.

Lunchbox had stayed the night with friends in the area to ensure an early start.  We picked him up outside of some shitty breakfast place north of Indianapolis.  When we pulled up Lunchbox was sitting on the sidewalk, sunglasses on, smoke in hand, with a pile of junk, including guitar case, next to him.  He hopped in back and we kept going.

Big Spender drove for most of the way which allowed myself and Lunchbox plenty of time to discuss worldly topics.

 

Joke

Lunchbox busted this one on us pretty early in the day.

Q:  What is the difference between peanut butter and jam?

A:  I can’t peanut butter my dick in your ass.

Little did we know how many times that joke would be repeated throughout the weekend.

 

Homo Insurance

Somewhere around Kentucky there was a conversation between Lunchbox and Big Spender.  I really don’t care to listen to either of them, so I was quite happy staring out the window.  I jumped into the conversation immediately when I heard Lunchbox say “homeowner’s insurance”…not because I am really interested about homeowner’s insurance…but because I thought he said “homo insurance”.

I then asked Lunchbox what homo insurance was and he said, “You know, in case some guy seizes up while he’s blowing you and bites your dick off.”  Wow!  I almost lost my shit right then.

Of course, the homo insurance conversation continued until Lunchbox hammered out the rest of the details about it.  What does it cost?…”It costs two reach-arounds a year and $40.”  What is the deductable?...”A creampie.”  Holy shit.

We had been in the car for only 6 or 7 hours and we were already starting to lose it.

 

Brit Milah

For those of you who aren’t aware, Brit Milah is the Jewish ritual of male circumcision.  After I had taken the wheel, somewhere in eastern Tennessee, I stated quite randomly, “I think the Mohel sucks the blood off the baby’s wang during a Jewish circumcision.”  Of course, no one in the car believed me.  A quick Wikipedia search and boom…confirmed…Dan is right.

This topic was discussed for a while to which Lunchbox stated, in reference to the Mohel rinsing his mouth with alcohol prior to the event, “So this guy is getting all boozed-up and sucking baby dicks?”

What can I tell you…sometimes Lunchbox is just on…this was one of those times.

 

Boozin’

We started our Thursday night with boxed wine in the hotel room before moving to the hotel bar for a few bourbons and some mingling.  Lunchbox, McG, myself, and a few others then headed out to a bar…Delaney’s.  We sat at a table, listened to a shitty band, and got DRUNK.  Notice the capital letters folks.  DRUNK.

I don’t remember much of what happened that night.  I know I did some very un-smart things at the bar.  Miraculously, I didn’t get kicked out.  Stupid southerners.

All I know is that I have now been drunk in 21 states and there is a 3-way tie for 2^nd place of those who have been with me.

 

Friday, April 17th

The Morning from Hell

I was rocking a wicked case of residual carryover when I awoke for Friday morning’s wedding rehearsal.  I showed up, stood on my mark, walked with some skank holding my arm, ate a bagel, and got out of there.  McG was going to drive me over to pick up my tux and then back to the hotel to relax/sleep.  Things did not go as planned.

 

Tux Pick-Up

I was blessed with my mother’s thighs and facial hair.  Stop.  Re-read that.  Yes.  My tux pants were so tight you could clearly see my testicles.  Not a great look for me, but not a terrible one.  Also, why is it that the size of the body of the dress shirt is solely based on the neck?  This just fucking sucks.  I have a massive neck (size 18) and get stuck with shirts that could fit Louie Anderson. 

Well, I guess I had gotten a little lippy with the woman at the tux shop.  McG informed me that she said I was a bit of a handful.  She was wearing a shirt that said “I Believe”.  I thought she was a Cubs fan, not a bible-beater.  Oops.  Welcome to the south.

 

Running on Empty

While heading back to the hotel McG’s phone rang.  It was the future Mrs. McG.  I knew right away we were fucked.  The next two-plus hours consisted of driving around town, picking shit up, and dropping shit off…not cool.  When all was said and done, I was back in the hotel room with 45 minutes of free time before I had to be ready for pictures.

It was at this time that Lunchbox gave me the gifts he had bought for me.  He had spent his day at the local Wal-Mart.  For once, I envied him.  Lunchbox bought me a Hawaiian shirt to wear on Saturday and the movie United 93.  Why United 93?  Two reasons…it was $5 and my beard was reaching terrorist-esque levels.  We’ll get to the beard later, but let’s just say that a 12-year kid was calling me “Saddam”.  Very clever Lunchbox…very clever.

 

The Wedding

The wedding was a pretty good time…outdoor ceremony and tent reception at some old, southern mansion.  It was a McG family event so there was no shortage of scotch.  There were maybe ten different bottles at the bar and two of them were scotch.  Scotch on-the-rocks it is!

After the drinks had been flowing and people were dancing for a while, something amazing happened.  The dance floor was an elevated back porch attached to the mansion.  The dance floor was bordered on one side by a row of hedges…no railing.  While standing on the grass, looking up at the dance floor I saw one of the funniest things ever.  One of the bridesmaids fell backwards into the bushes.  Priceless.  We were all a little awestruck by the event until she dug her way out, popped up, pointed to me and said, “You need to get on the dance floor now!”  I don’t take orders too well, but I surely complied with this one.  Once again, priceless.

 

Dan-Centric World

We all know that the world revolves around me.  I didn’t ask for it…it just does.  Friday was no different.

After the ceremony we all gathered in front of the mansion while the bride and groom walked down the steps and into an old, janky Model A.  As they were getting into the car I turned to the groomsman next to me and said, “What if this thing doesn’t start and we have to push it until it gets into gear?”  Moments later, as several people were pushing the car down the driveway, the same groomsman turned to me and said, “What did you do?”

I did nothing.  These things just happen to me.

 

The Cadillac of Men

The groomsmen/usher tuxes, while ill-fitting, were quite kickass.  Black bowtie, no vest…very James Bond-esque.  From the moment I put on the tux I knew one thing…if there ever were a time for me to get a “file photo” to use on CNN after I finally lose it and go on my rampage, this was it.  Luckily, there was a photo area set up for guests to have their pictures taken.  Most guests took one or two family photos and moved on.  Not me. 

I had about a twenty picture solo shoot.  The most prevalent of all my poses was the one where I look directly into the camera, jacket unbuttoned, left hand in my pants pocket, holding a glass of scotch in my right hand…in other words…”The Chivas Regal” pose. 

All I’m going to say about the photo shoot is that later in the night, the preggers photographer took me aside and said, “I just looked at your pictures.  They are hilarious.”  Clearly, she was hitting on me.  Sorry lady…I don’t mess with pregnant chicks.

Later in the night, at Delaney’s once again, I headed to the bathroom.  After washing my hands, I took a good look at myself, buttoned my jacket, and took a picture.  I look like I belong in a Dos Equis commercial...and, yes…women find me irresistible.

 

Saturday, April 18th

Blowing Fags

Saturday’s festivities started with…you guessed it…more drinking.  Most of the wedding guests gathered at a nearby restaurant to drink.  Big Spender and I started off at an aggressive pace and Lunchbox wasn’t too far behind.  Earlier in the weekend, Big Spender started calling smoking cigarettes, “blowing fags”.  As in, “You guys want to blow a fag?”  Yup…nothing but class from us three.  As we continued to drink more and more we started to use this phrase very openly…and very loudly.  Needless to say, we turned some heads.  After all, it was the dirty south and two of the three of us were wearing Hawaiian shirts.

 

Musical Embarrassment

After the twelve, or so, beers at the restaurant we headed back to the hotel to drink and party in the presidential suite.  Once again…nothing but class.  Lunchbox brought his guitar and he and I were going to put on a little show.

Those of you who knew me and Lunchbox during our time in Iowa City should be familiar with these events.  Lunchbox and I had a steady rotation of parody songs we would play in the early mornings of parties, on the front porch, and while camping.  Some of the songs include “Rosa Parks”, “Afghani Freedom Fighters”, “[Carson Daily] is Gay”, “Nazi SS Men”, “Hiroshima”, and our all-original track “Columbine (A Lot of Kids Died)”.

Unfortunately, we failed to rehearse prior to our gig in the suite.  In front of a crowd of about 30 we realized that Lunchbox hadn’t played the guitar in over a year and I didn’t remember any of the lyrics.  Now, you may be thinking, “They’re both to blame.”  No.  Wrong.  It is Lunchbox’s fault.  I can, and usually did, wing most of the lyrics.

Either way, it was a shit show.  Eyes rolled, people walked away, and many were disappointed.  The only song we could do, “Nazi SS Men” is so brutally anti-semetic that people thought we were even bigger assholes than we really are.  Imagine Radiohead’s “Karma Police” with reimagined lyrics about the Nazi occupation of Poland.  Now imagine the chorus.  Now imagine me singing, “This is what you get, this is what you get, this is what you get when you kill Jesus.”  Yup…not making any friends with that one.

With that said, I can’t speak for Lunchbox, but I am officially retiring from the Brett and Dan Show.  It was a good run…but it was a good run seven years ago.  DR out.

 

Sunday, April 19th

The Departure and the Waffle House

Being the responsible father-figure that I am, I set my alarm and rallied the troups at 6:30 a.m.  We were on the road by 7.  I took the wheel first and it was smooth sailing for the first hour.  Then it started to rain.  It would rain for the next fourteen hours.  Fourteen hours!

Big Spender had been bitching for three days about going to a Waffle House.  On Sunday, he said he wanted to eat at 9 a.m.  At 9:05 a.m. I pulled into a Waffle House and said, “We’re here.”  Waffle House has to be the only restaurant in America where the food that you’re served looks better than the pictures on the menu.

When the waitress came up I asked, “What city are we in?”  She answered.  I then asked, “What state are we in?”  She gave me a peculiar look and said, “Tennessee.”  Really?  It’s always reassuring when the driver doesn’t know what state he’s in.  I thought it was North Carolina for sure.

After we ordered our food, Lunchbox asked us, “Do you think anyone has ever ordered hashbrowns with everything on them?”  I grabbed a menu, pointed to the bottom corner, and said “Yeah, it’s called “All the Way”.”  Come on Lunchbox.  There are a million Waffle Houses and they’ve been around for a hundred years…think before you open your mouth.

Before we could officially leave the Waffle House we had to wait while PG-12 took pictures of Big Spender in front of the restaurant.  Morons.

 

Wrap-Up

The rest of Sunday’s drive was fairly uneventful.  We drove.  It rained.  Lunchbox said stupid shit.

The twelve hours that it took us to get down to South Carolina were three hours shorter than the drive back.  It was painful.

 

Random Thoughts

The Return of the Ukraine

Well folks, it looks like the Ukraine’s unemployment period was pretty short.  He’s already back with the same company.  Basically, Ukraine is like the husband who gets kicked out of his house by his whore wife then gleefully returns to her when she cries to him that she made a mistake.  Spineless bitch.

 

Cassette Jackpot

By now I’m sure most of you know that I have a cassette player in my car.  Yes, seriously.  Unfortunately, George Michael’s Faith sounded like it spent some serious time next to a magnet…had to throw it away.  Fortunately, after digging around my parents’ house a bit I found the following on cassette:  Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell, Pink Floyd’s Animals and Wish You Were Here, Traveling Wilburys’ Vol 1, and…drum roll please…Phil Collins’ No Jacket Required.  Very exciting stuff.

 

Read.  Watch.

Boats ‘N Hoes   

Area Man   

Pitufos   

My doll’s name…is…Jenny   

Cocksucker Wins   

 

The Hotness

The last time I had a beard of such magnetism and greatness was five years ago.  Appropriately, The Choz nicknamed my beard “the hotness”.  It was the hotness.  Just as my current beard is…or, should I say, was.  That’s right folks…the beard has been trimmed.  I no longer have to wipe the inside of my upper lip after every bite of food or have to worry about looking like I’m going to fly airplanes into buildings.  I still have a beard…just a more socially-acceptable one.  Thank you all for your support over the last month.

Solving the Pirate Problem

I thought the authorities had a firm handle on the Somali pirate situation but I was clearly wrong.  I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, so I abstained from adding my two cents.  After last week’s debacle I’ve decided to step up and solve this pirate problem once and for all.

The Problem

A lot of you are probably aware that there is a pirate problem, but you may not know all the ins and outs.  I’ll explain.  I’ll explain using visual aids.  The map below shows the general area in discussion.

The easiest way for ships to travel to and from Europe and south/southeast Asia is through the Suez Canal, Red Sea, and Gulf of Aden.  Unfortunately, the country that borders the south of the Gulf of Aden is Somalia.  To the north…Yemen...where they get their weapons from.  Without getting too much into the history of Somalia, they’re pretty fucked up.  Somalia has been a shit show since the Brits, French, and Italians got out after World War 2.  In this blogger’s opinion, we should just fly a couple hundred B-1’s full of Quikrete over Africa and wait for the rains.  Unfortunately, that idea, although brilliant, may be a little too costly for the current financial belt-tightening.

So the cargo ships and tankers are going through the Gulf of Aden and BOOM…intercepted by pirates.

The Solution

How can we stop these pirates?  Apparently no one wants to arm the crews of the ships.  Okay, I get it, cargo loads are flammable and, frankly, the crews didn’t sign up to play John Matrix.

We can have naval ships from many countries patrol the area in an attempt to stop the pirate attacks.  Wait…isn’t that already happening?  Yes.  Is it working?  No.

Couldn’t we invade Somalia in an attempt to “liberate” their people and implement a Westernized democracy?  We could…but…they don’t have any oil…so…ehhh…not really worth it in the long run.

There has to be a simpler answer.  An answer that doesn’t involve guns, naval ships, Quikrete, or wars.  Hold on…I’m remembering something from 4^th grade.  Isn’t there another way to get from Asia to Europe.  YES!  I’ve got it.  The ships could sail AROUND Africa.

The map below shows the route that the ships could take.  These ships would have to enter/exit the Mediterranean Sea through the Strait of Gibraltar.  You’re probably thinking…couldn’t the countries that border the Strait of Gibraltar attack the ships?  No.  Spain and Morocco…are you serious?  They’re pussies…just like Canada…you don’t have to fear them.

This isn’t a new idea folks.  Vasco da Gama did this shit in 1497.  Portugal to India.  Number of pirate attacks…zero.

I know what you’re all thinking…isn’t that going to cost more money?  Yes.  Is there the risk of other African countries pirating the waters of the new shipping routes?  Yes…technically…but if that happens, they can just sail further out to sea.  Wasn’t the Suez Canal built to shorten the distance between Asia and Europe?  Yes…but it isn’t 1869 anymore…these fuckers have guns now.  Let’s use our fucking heads.

 

Maps

I haven’t worked in over 4 months and I really miss making maps.  At this point, I’ll use any global conflict/situation as an excuse to draw a north arrow on a sheet of paper.

 

Million-to-One Shot

The old Seinfeld bit is that every story a patient tells his proctologist ends with “It was a million to one shot Doc.  Million to one.”  Unfortunately, I don’t know any proctologists, so I don’t get to hear any of these stories firsthand.  However, I do know a urologist (my cousin), so I get to hear some good ones.  These stories are usually discussed at the dinner table on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, etc…and ALWAYS after the booze has started flowing.

These stories are bizarre and entertaining.  Most of them involve internal penis pumps, erectile dysfunction medication, and…drum roll…sex changes.  The story from Sunday may have been the best so far.  Here is my summary.

My cousin was told by his boss that a woman is coming in and he has to remove a cyst from her labia.  Labia cyst…piece of cake.  He checks her out before surgery, sees something that he is not expecting, and postpones the surgery.  After another consultation, he finds out that the woman used to be a man…that’s right kids…a post-op tranny.  After further inspection, it wasn’t a cyst.  Nope…it was a testicle.  A dead testicle that, literally, slipped through the cracks.  He removed it.  Case closed.  Tranny happy.

 

Seriously Netflix?

I signed up for Netflix the other day.  Why?  So I could go outside just a little bit less.  I’ve spent the last two days loading up the queue…a lot of new stuff, some old stuff, and even some documentaries I’ve been meaning to get to for a few years (The Bridge).  Everything I have on the list has “now” listed under “expected availability”…everything except one.  One movie has “long wait” listed.  And what is that movie?...Highlander.  Who else wants to rent Highlander besides me?  Do they only have one copy?  Seriously Netflix?

 

A Sunday with the Roman Catholic Church

I just went to church with my parents.  I get so uncomfortable at church that I sweat like I'm going through airport security with coke taped under my balls…just a terrible experience.

I take part in the Catholic mass in my own special way…participating in some of the rituals, abstaining from most.  I don’t kneel, I rarely speak, I never bow my head, and I always drink the wine. 

Church is a strange place, not just because everyone is praying to a mythical “God”, but because of the people there.  I’m fairly tall, but at church I might as well be Lew Alcindor…nothing but short people all around.  Oh yeah…can’t forget the elderly and the ugly…they’re there too.

Today’s Jesus-fest was pretty short and uneventful.  There was a kid, two rows in front of me, that would not sit still.  If you’re old enough to walk, old enough to talk, and not hooked up to machines…you should be able to sit in one place for an hour.  Fuck.  This kid was moving around so much that all I wanted to do was smash his stupid face.

The only other highlight was from when we all turn to each other, shake hands, and say “peace be with you”.  The high school girl behind me got a wink with her “peace be with you”.  My mother saw it.  I don’t think she was pleased.

 

Stories From Uncleville

I’ve been an uncle for about 3 weeks now and, frankly, I think I’m pretty good at it.  Got the kid a card for Easter…check it out.

Hey Carla…look who learned origami.  In your face Mexico!  The $30 sailboat.

 

Why Joe Walsh?  Why?

Why isn’t “A Life of Illusion” by Joe Walsh on iTunes?  There are plenty of other Joe Walsh songs on there.  There are plenty of covers of the song on there.  Why Joe Walsh?  Why?

Joe…if you’re reading this…please answer the question.

 

My Most Recent 5 Wikipedia Reads

Winston Zeddemore

Humanism

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Owsley Stanley

Batting helmet

 

My Saturday Music Downloads

“Glycerine” by Bush

“Ooh La La” by Faces

“It’s the End of the World As We Know It” by R.E.M.

“The Goonies ‘R’ Good Enough” by Cyndi Lauper...a gullwing limo?

 

The Sands of Time

It has been exactly 4 months since my last day of work.

Today is the first day since December 25^th that I have:  tucked in my shirt, worn pants that aren’t made of denim or windbreaker.

Beisbol

Baseball season is here in full force.  For all the immigrants out there, please use this map to find your allegiance.

Searching for Amy Fisher

For those who remember...Searching for Amy Fisher was the name of one of the greatest mix CDs I made in college.  It wasn't as good as Pickin' Cotton or The Kirk Cameron Workshop or Radio Free Europe and the Dobly Pro Logic Shuffle...but still pretty good.

Job Search

The job search has officially started.  Guess what?  There are no jobs.

Now, many people have tried to help me over the last few weeks and months.  For all of those people, I have written this letter.

Dear Know-It-Alls,

Please stop trying to help me find a job.  Just because you heard on the radio or saw on CNN how there will be lots of money for infrastructure projects, does not mean there are any jobs.

You may have also heard some jackass say, “The housing market should pick up by this summer.”  While that may be true for home sales and maybe even construction, it does not mean so for design.  Commercial and residential developments aren’t designed one building at a time.  They are designed as a whole, usually years before construction.  Just because you see some jackass putting up siding, doesn’t mean there are new engineering jobs.

Now, I’ve never really openly discussed what kind of work I used to do, so I somewhat understand the confusion that some of you may have.  If you’re wondering if I’m going to explain it now…stop…I’m not going to.  All I’ll say is that there are hundreds of different types of engineering jobs.  Of those hundreds, I may be qualified to do two or three.

Let me dumb it down a little more.  Let’s say I’m a kindergarten teacher.  A teacher.  A teacher who tells kids to stop putting shit in their mouths and hitting each other, but a teacher, nonetheless.  Now, let’s say I’m a college physics professor.  Still a teacher, but not the same.  Get it?

When you read on MSN.com how there are jobs in “engineering”, stop, think back to the paragraph above, and don’t forward me the link.  It would be like me sending out emails to almost everyone I know with job postings for “businessman wanted” or “office worker needed”.

There you have it folks.  I appreciate the thought and effort…just please stop.

Cordially,

DR

 

Hobos

As society has progressed and life has gotten a little faster, I feel we’ve overlooked a major, contributing group…the hobos.  These train-hopping sons-of-bitches are the last bit of hope in this topsy-turvy world.

The hobo life is a simple one.  Not burdened with families, taxes, jobs, or dental hygiene…the hobo is free to roam.  From boxcar to boxcar, they travel this great land.  Robbing families, eating raccoons, and knifing their competition in their sleep.

Although they give us all so much, we often alienate them and discriminate against them.  Well…not all of us.  There is still the hobo haven of Britt, Iowa.  This charming, little hellhole of off Highway 18 is home to the annual Hobo Convention.

For more on the hobo lifestyle, click here...pretty good.

 

The Atlasphere

Arguably, the fiercest competition in the history of mankind.

I've lost my place again...A Friday with The Strokes

“Hard to Explain”...watch this video!!!

“Trying Your Luck”

“Reptilia”

“Under Control”…the song that just screams, “light up a smoke”

“The Way It Is”

“You Only Live Once”

Thursday Revelation

Does the world really revolve around me?  Maybe.

Look what the main article on The Onion was today.

The Spring of Dan

It seems that the Winter of Dan has flowed, almost seamlessly, into the Spring of Dan.  Is there a story involved?  You betcha!

I was lying in bed on Tuesday morning when I looked at my phone and saw a text message from MDR saying “Call me when you wake up”.  Interesting.  I called him back and he informed me that he was heading downtown with his neighbor and his neighbor’s kids to go to some sort of museum.  I asked if the Shedd Aquarium was an option…he said yes.

I then called the Big Spender, who I know has Tuesdays off, and informed him of my plans.  He reluctantly agreed and I headed to the Big Spender’s place.  I parked my car, put the key in my pocket, and we were off.  On the walk to the Metra station we stopped and picked up a 6’er of Modelo Especial (a product of Mexico).

On the train ride down, I tried to rally some troops to play hooky and join us for the day.  Unfortunately, the prospect of fish, mammals, and inner-city kids on field trips wasn’t enough to get anyone out of their comfy cubicles, so there were three.  We met MDR at the Shedd Aquarium and he informed us of the line…3 hours.  Fuck.  I’m not waiting in line for 3 hours for anything…period.

The three of us wandered around for a bit and ducked into a bar.  As we bellied-up we decided that if we were really going to do this, we were going to do it right.  We needed a bar with a jukebox.  That’s right folks…we needed Fearon’s Public House.

A short cab ride and we were there.  Sitting at my favorite corner of the bar, by the Mega Touch machine.  The bartender, Renee, brought us three Jim Beam cocktails and we were on our way.

I quickly pumped the jukebox with $5 and selected a veritable cornucopia of hits from the 1980s.  Hall and Oates, INXS, Peter Gabriel, daytime drinking magic.

About 4 hours passed and the Big Spender informed me that he needed to head back home.  Married guys…suckers.  I looked around and decided it was too soon for me to leave so I handed him the key to my car and said, “Please take care of this for me.”

Things started getting fuzzy here.  Apparently, MDR left the bar first and I stuck around by myself.  Pretty typical.  The next thing I know I’m on the phone with Byl trying to convince him to come out.  No dice.  I then inform him I’m coming over.

A quick stop at Foremost Liquors and Boston Market and I was on my way, in another cab, listening to the sweet sounds of Virgil “Pat” Hughes and Ron Santo.  I watched the remainder of the Cubs game with Byl and Weiner and then went to sleep…on their couch.  Something I feel I will be doing a lot of.

I lucked out on the morning-after traveling when Byl said he could drive me out to the Big Spender’s place.  We showed up to find my car, in a parking spot, with the doors unlocked.  Yes!  I opened the door and looked for the key.  Where was it?  Just sitting on the driver’s seat.  Yes!

There it is.  The beginning of the Spring of Dan.

 

CST Adjustments

Adjusting to the central time zone has been a little difficult.  Saved by the Bell is on TBS from 6-8 in the morning, as opposed to the convenient 7-9 on the west coast.  I may have to start waking up earlier.

 

Dolby B

Before emptying all the boxes from my car, I had to make some closet space at my parents’ house.  There wasn’t much left of my childhood after the last purge about 10 years ago.  As I was going through the boxes of old baseball cards, MASK action figures, and Sega Genesis games I came across something very special.  A cassette.  A cassette from 1987.  George Michael’s Faith. 

Now I’m not exactly sure where it came from…I’m guessing my sister has something to do with it…but it will be a nice addition to my car.  Move over Cocktail Soundtrack and ELO Rocks the Classics…Faith is here to stay.

If you’re wondering…yes…I have a cassette/CD player in my car.  Very futuristic.

 

The Dublin Underground…Revisited

A telephone transcript courtesy of the Jew from Saturday afternoon…

DR:  Alexis.  Dan.  Sitting with MDR.  At the Dublin Underground in Iowa City.  Drinking.

MDR:  For no good reason.

DR:  For no good reason at all we’re at the Dublin Underground in the middle of the day.  Listening to Pink Floyd.  How do we get a hold of Becky?  Becky Brown?  Becky?

MDR:  Becky who runs a lot.

DR:  Fucking Becky who runs a lot.  Becky Brown I think.

DR:  Call me, text me, somehow.  Becky.  I must speak to her immediately.

MDR:  Fucking A (inaudible).

DR (in Sean Connery’s voice):  I need to speak to Becky Brown immediately.  This is Sean Connery.  Signing out.

 

Brianna Denison:  The Musical

I saw a commercial the other day for the Natalee Holloway movie on Lifetime Movie Network.  Seriously people…they made a Natalee Holloway movie.  Check it out on April 19^th…I’ve already set the DVR.

Idea time…why don’t I try to make some money off the tragedy of others like the people at Lifetime?  Are you thinking what I’m thinking?  Yes…Brianna Denison:  The Musical.

Details to follow.

 

Bill Bellamy

What happened to this man?  And the man to his left?

 

Dr. Mike and the MILF Contest

Dr. Mike called me on Wednesday night and said, “Dan, I just stumbled into a strip club and they’re having a MILF contest.”  We need details Dr. Mike.  Details.  Soon.

 

G. Michael and Co.

“Freedom! ‘90”

“Faith”

“Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”

“Last Christmas”