Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Footballs and Oscars.

If I didn't make some sort of Super Bowl post, I'd feel like I was defying my identity or something, and ultimately, I would just be devastating my readers (all five to seven of them). I know this, and that's why I must forge ahead. The Super Bowl this year is leaving a lump in my throat for a few reasons. The most obvious reason is that it involves my most hated sports franchise. Of course, I'm talking about the Arizona Cardinals. Damn those fuckers for toiling in obscurity year after year and never amounting to more than an abandoned shit in an outhouse. I hate them for having a battered, seasoned quarterback making comeback number three and one of the best wide receivers I've seen in my life (I know that's hyperbolic, but his stretch in the playoffs has turned me into some sort of freak believer). The Cardinals don't deserve anything. They should crawl back to the rotting, rancid cesspool they climbed out of and die.

Not buying it? Of course not. It's ridiculous to think that anyone could hate the Arizona Cardinals. I don't even think Pittsburgh Steelers fans hate them. How could anyone hate a team that has simply been piss poor for as long as he or she can remember? I don't hate the Cleveland Browns. I feel sorry for them. Probably like the rest of the world feels sorry for the Cincinnati Bengals. Whatever. On the other hand, the real scourge of the football world and really just society as a whole is the Pittsburgh Steelers. The evil of all evils.

Let's take a journey back to the 2005-2006 season. The Bengals were having some sort of bizarro world year where the defense was like +30 in turnovers and, alongside the precision accuracy and genius of Carson Palmer, our offense was like the Ivan Drago training scene in Rocky IV, minus the steroids. Intense and balls out. Anyway, we obviously made it to the playoffs and then the ACL tear thing happened on the second play, thus destroying our chance to win the game. I don't necessarily think the Kimo von Oelhoffen hit was on purpose, but it without a doubt made us lose the game. The Steelers then went on to cruise through the playoffs on Carson Palmer's torn ACL and win the Super Bowl. Watching those playoffs was like being treated to repeated papercuts on your eyeballs and genitals. It was excruciating, and the Bengals haven't been the same since.

Now the Steelers are back in the Super Bowl and playing a team that they're basically better than. My solace in the situation is that I'm awful at choosing Super Bowl winners (I'm obviously rooting for the Cardinals, but actually believe the Steelers will probably win . . . as much as it pains me to say that). The only one I've picked correctly in recent years was the Colts, but really how could they have lost that game? If you don't remember, it was against the Bears. One of the most overrated teams in recent memory. If you haven't caught on, I hate the Steelers more than the Plague. They are a team of derelicts. A team comprised of individuals who would sell their sisters and mothers into a massive ring of prostitution trafficking. A team that would go to the pound, adopt several puppies and kittens, and throw them out of moving vehicles. A team that is the root of all evil. We all know that in this economy, if you need to hate one thing, it's important hate the Pittsburgh Steelers.

So before the game, I'm going to need everyone to kneel and pray for the following things to happen:

Troy Polamalu will be chasing down Fitzgerald after yet another amazing catch, grab onto the back of him, and begin choking on one of Fitzgerald's dreads. After finally detaching himself from Fitzgerald and watching him run into the end zone, Polamalu will begin grasping for air again as he realize he's choking on his own mop of hair.

The much too excited Mike Tomlin (Omar Epps) will go to chest bump Willie Parker after a three yard run or some other fool after a shoestring tackle and consequently be knocked back into a group of Steelers, creating a domino effect of morons falling over on the sidelines.

Ben Roethlisberger (Benny Burger) will get get destroyed on a blindside blitz resulting in his face getting creamed into the ground and his helmet turning completely around and leaving him blinded. Then as he's stumbling around with his arms out trying to find his way (not realizing to turn his helmet back the right way), a Cardinals defensive lineman will get on his hands and knees as another Cardinal pushes Roethlisberger over. This will be replayed for eternity, and everyone will laugh every time.

In addition, Benny Burger will finally be discovered as a mediocre quarterback who often gets away with holding onto the ball too long and chucking passes that have no right being thrown, a la Brett Favre. Why the fuck did the Steelers give him so much money? It baffles me.

Hines Ward (the Devil) will simultaneously have both legs and arms broken on a freak play in which he gets tackled by eight Cardinals. As he's laying motionless on the field still shining those pearly whites with that big smile, I'll jump out of the stands from my seat on the 50 yard line and punch his fucking teeth out.

If all of these things happen: Cardinals 89 Steelers 4

One thing that greatly saddens me about the game this year is that it doesn't appear as if there's going to be a blow out Super Bowl party. As many of you know, I take great pride in my Super Bowl parties, which were usually organized alongside Mr. Joe Lamb. It's a holiday without all the obnoxious chores. Gorge yourself, drink alcohol, watch football, and yell at the commercials. If there's a better sounding life option than that, I have yet to hear it. We've thrown a Super Bowl party four years running, and I always kind of thought of it as my baby. Bummer. Okay, I better move on to part two of this gigantic post before I start tearing up.

Every year I hear about all this Oscar buzz all these fancy shmancy movies are getting and how great they are and blah, blah, blah. Initially, I blow them all off because fuck you for telling me to go see something. It's like the Seinfeld episode where Jerry buys Elaine the Orodent toothbrush because of how great it is and how much better he knows it to be from her old toothbrush, but she doesn't give a shit about getting it primarily because he raves about it so much. She's just not interested (Man I'm so glad I could squeeze a Seinfeld moment in). Anyway, every year I wait until the Oscar nominations come out and suddenly feel impelled to see everything that was nominated for any kind of noteworthy award (i.e. best picture, actor, director, and so on). It's like I have to give them some sort of approval for nominating the movies for such "big fucking deal" awards. So, I've recently been doing the rounds, and here's my short synopses of three of the more touted movies of the year.

Slumdog Millionaire - I fully enjoyed this movie. It's brutal about the truths of the Indian slums, and some of the scenes, such as the straight burning of the kids eyes at the "foster/prison camp," are intense. Plus you can't beat watching a kid jump into a hole full of shit. The game show question parallels to the character's pratfalls and triumphs weave throughout the movie pretty seamlessly. I definitely wished it hadn't resorted to focusing on the love plot at the end because I really thought that whole plot line was taking a more appropriate backseat throughout most of the movie. All of the sudden, it was the focus. It was the most forced part of the movie, and it hurt the ending.

The Wrestler - Mickey Rourke, who won the Golden Globe for best actor, looked like a fucking trainwreck in this movie. Just amazing. Is it just me or did anyone else expect the Wrestler to be bleaker? I mean, it's an Aronofsky movie. Gotta admit that I was a little let down by that. The daughter subplot seemed forced, and Marisa Tomei's character kind of annoyed me. Rourke definitely carried the movie even though Tomei was naked throughout most of the film. She's 45 by the way. Yikes. Is that the only way she gets movie roles now? Anyway, go see it for Rourke's performance if for nothing else and the fact that it's about old school 80's wrestling. That definitely elicited some nostalgia from me.

Frost/Nixon - I don't know shit about this era of history and to be honest, I thought there were going to be some parts in the movie I was going to have to trudge through. Plus, I was super tired when I saw it, so I though my concentration would suffer. Wrong on both accounts. My expectations were exceeded, particularly by Frank Langella's performance as Nixon. He should without a doubt win the Oscar. I thought it was unreal, and what the hell do I know about Nixon? This movie inspired me to research the actual Frost/Nixon interviews. That doesn't happen too often. Bacon, Sheen, Platt, and Rockwell all played their roles beautifully. Best surprise of the year for me. Who knew I could be so intrigued by a character/president that hasn't been in office in my lifetime?

I refuse to go see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. That movie looks like the equivalent to having a four-hour long lobotomy. No thanks.

Whew, longest post ever. That's what I get for waiting so long to talk about the Super Bowl. Damn ESPN's mind numbing, never-ending coverage for souring my own unique analysis of the game. Oh and by the way, I still hate the Steelers.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009


Some of you may or not know that I busted my knee on January 2nd of this young year due to a negligent driver being an idiot. Idiot drivers are the worst kind of idiots. I've been patiently waiting for it to fully recover ever since; however, a dull ache remains, and if I hit it or touch it accidentally, it fucking throbs. I guess flying off your bike and grinding your knee against straight concrete will do that. Anyway, I thought I'd take the time to go ahead and let the 5-6 people who read this blog know how feeling crippled has affected my everyday activities.

Now, I'm a bit of complainer. I know that and have come to grips with it. I actually really do love that as you get older, you realize your strengths and weaknesses more and more. It's refreshing and you adapt better in situations prone to evoking a certain emotion . . . if that makes any sense. Anyway, because of my knee the complaining has ratcheted up, and my friends have been forced to take the brunt of it. I feel sorry for them and I apologize, but I feel like in the end it's a pretty good trade for driving their sorry asses around all the time. Of course, I'm kidding. I just drive their sorry asses around most of the time.

Exercise has become impossible. No running. No bike riding. It's depressing. I went running the Monday after the accident naively thinking I was all better and consequently spent the rest of the day walking around like my leg was perpetually asleep. It killed. Now, if this was the summer, I wouldn't be able to stand it. I mean, how would I sweat? I've definitely been going through adrenaline withdraw, and that's kind of okay because it's winter. It's hard to do a lot of shit in -25 degree weather anyway. Push-ups and pull-ups are pretty much the norm. Regardless, I can feel myself getting fatter. Is there any worse a feeling than feeling yourself gain weight? Sounds vain as fuck huh? Well whatever, everyone's vain as hell. Most are just too vain to admit it.

I'm 27 and will soon be 28. I typically think of myself as a vivacious, healthy rascal operating on unadulterated energy. I don't drink caffeine or take any stimulants. With this injury, however, I've become sadly brittle and old as I ache around my apartment and office trying not to bend me knee or accidentally bang it up against anything. I should probably go cane shopping tomorrow. I've also been finding myself blankly staring at and checking for ear hair. I assume I should make an appointment for a colonoscopy pretty soon. I'm an old man. Thank god for Justin and Zach, though. They're ancient.

In conclusion, I did make an appointment to see a sports medicine doctor. I'm kind of looking forward to this because I can ask him about all of the ridiculous sports injuries that my favorite athletes have had to endure. Can you please explain to me what Tommy John surgery is? Will Carson Palmer ever return to form from his ACL surgery? What exactly is "turf toe"? Plus, I may get to have my first MRI, which is exciting, just as long as my whole body doesn't have to go in the tube. Is that the only type of MRI because if so, no thanks.

All in all, I suspect I'm fine. I just need some sort of explanation and fully plan on being told to just "try and stay off it and take some ibuprofen to stunt the pain." Pffft . . .

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Recent Happenings.

Justin and I recently had a conversation about how our lives have slowed down a bit, thus leading to a decrease in our mildly entertaining, whimsical blog posts. We obviously blame the cold. There's no way it could have anything to do with us getting older and becoming more boring or doing less interesting things. Not possible. Anyway, the past few weeks have yielded a string of entertaining, painful, and hilarious events that are worth me ranting about for a while (and illustrating) just to affirm the fact that I remain a spry, young troublemaker.

I went back to Cincinnati for Christmas and in comparison to my Thanksgiving trip, I had no high aspirations or grand schemes as to what I was going to do. I went to enjoy the company of my friends and maybe run into a couple of people I hadn't seen in a while. I ate at Dewey's, got the highly anticipated paper shredder for Christmas, played some vicious tackles football (the brutes beat the speedsters down, and trust me, I'm no brute), enjoyed 70 degree weather during the tail end of December, didn't get a fucking cold, ate whatever I wanted, went to a delightful Christmas party, and capped it all off with a nice trip to the Comet 20 people deep. Here are some photos from the Christmas party and the burrito party.

Christmas party:

Kenny in his amazing cane vest

Killing cream cheese salamis. Heather appears to have pissed herself.

The obligatory group shots. Coates' head appears to be floating behind everyone in the second photo, and you can see my gold underwear.



Brian attacking me.

Kenny drinking sour cream. By the way, he didn't do this to pose for the photo. I caught him doing it.

Table shots. People appear happy.


Rebecca's best moment ever.

I left Chicago in a snowy state when I returned to Cincinnati for Christmas. However, due to the abnormal weather, I came back to seemingly clear streets. I was pumped because I hadn't been able to ride my bike for like three weeks due to the weather. Plus, I had just had a bunch of work done to it and I knew it was going to ride like a thick slice of heaven. So on Monday, I layered up and got ready to head to work on the Falcon. Not two minutes from leaving my house, I bit it hard on some black ice sneakily hiding on one of the three turns I have to make the entire trip. Ouch. A bit dazed, I decided to suck it up and cautiously move onward, which I did just fine.

It turns out that this was all a precursor to this past Friday when I was heading southeast on Milwaukee during a relatively slow traffic day (not many people working the day after New Year's Day...except for me of course) when a Mini Cooper owned by a suburbanite unfamiliar with the laws of bikes, decided to pull out, make a left turn from a parking spot, and clobber me. The only thing I could muster to say as I saw the accident forming was "Oh shit!" and then I braced myself for the hit, finally ending up lying on the concrete with my bike about 7 feet down the road. It sucked. My knee got fucked up and has been damn painful ever since. The funniest thing about it was that although the lady was extremely apologetic and worried, she had no idea that bikes have the same right as cars on the road. When I talked to her yesterday, she was using phrases like "dual responsibility" and "whoever caused the accident" to the point where I had to stop her and tell her that the incident wasn't my fault one bit. She honestly didn't think that bikes had the same rights as cars and that bicyclists are supposed to yield to cars. Give me a break. From the suburbs okay...that dense though? Please. I knew that when I was like 12, and I'm from the suburbs.

Anyway, my knee is getting better, and she is going to be paying for any necessary repairs. Oh, and she's definitely going to be buying me a new pair of jeans. That's for damn sure. Shit got ripped. Jesus.

Finally, here are a bunch of pictures from my fancy New Year's Eve. I drank several adult beverages. There's no progression to the photos.

I like this photo.

The Burlington.

Can't remember that dude's name. Priceless face.

The $60 included plastic noisemakers. Fancy ass shit.

I'm not looking at anything.

This is Loren's alcohol drinking face.

Attacking Robyn.

I have a weak tongue.

Loren thinks she looks super good in this photo. She told me so.

I can't get rid of the red eye in this one. Too bad Carley. Great picture.

Uploading photos takes forever, and I'd probably say that this has been my most time consuming blog post ever. I just really wish I had a photo of my mangled body lying in the middle of the street after the bike wreck. That part of the post has got nothing without an illustration. Oh well...