Monday, January 24, 2011

"Volume XVIII"

Welcome to another edition of the blog. I hope you enjoy the illogical, randomness, and if you don't, may you be awoken from your sleep by an un-showered, and naked Rosie O'Donnell doing bikram yoga in your bedroom.

Has anyone else been able to resist the larger beer at restaurant chains? I fall for the trick of choosing between the 16 ounce beer for $7 and the 24 ounce for $7.50 every time. This is alcoholic entrapment. Darn that Applebee’s.

How do these camera men get these crazy shots in pornography movies? Sure there are some great angles, but where the heck is the guy setting up, under the dude’s genitalia? Could there be a worse camera gig? How do you get started in this? Perhaps you get your start filming training videos for Proctology seminars?

Aren’t we going a little bit too far with our hamburger meat and treatment of these cows? Sure, I want every cow in the world to live a life of luxury just like the next farm animal-aficionado, but things are getting a bit out of hoof. The back of these meat packages now look more like Cow-Facebook profiles instead of showing nutritional facts.

“Bessie was fed the finest grass, and grazed only during the hours of 3 to 4pm after the sun had dipped magnificently beyond the hills. She spent her mornings relaxing in a hammock, listening to Yanni, and only rose to reapply her moisturizer, or take a dip in the cool, calm cow pool. She enjoyed playing backgammon, taking long walks on the farm, and was always a great listener…”

It might as well read, “If you’re reading this, you are a carnivorous a-hole.” I usually opt for chicken at that point. Foster Farms doesn’t make me feel as bad about myself…

And grass fed burgers? Haven’t these cows always been grass fed? I’ve seen about 10,000 cows in my lifetime and not a single one was eating Sour Patch Kids, or in line for the Seafood buffet. Cows eat grass, period. Is it necessary to advertise the obvious? Is there a world out there where cows are living as hobos in alleys, like maybe in Harlem, helping themselves to extra helpings of Chicken Parmesan? I do find some satisfaction knowing that the cow wasn’t ingesting motor oil or something, so a simple disclaimer, like “hey this cow did not eat radioactive plankton,” or something would suffice for me.

You can read that as well as all my blogs at (all the hip kids are doing it)

Sunday, January 9, 2011

"Volume XVII"

Today’s Blog takes us to the world of random, useless thoughts, which is probably just what you are looking for, but likely not.

I hope I never get to the point where I start tucking my collared shirt into my jeans, while sporting a phone belt clip topped off white running shoes. Have these guys just completely given up on life or do they just have no one at home to stop them? If they do have a lady at home, what delusional woman is letting them leave the house like this? These guys might as well grow themselves a Mom Butt while they’re at it because I feel that might be their next step.

How did it come to be that horses are the primary animal used for glue? Was some mad scientist at Elmers experimenting with different animals or did he nail horse on the first shot? I’m just imagining them sitting around their beakers and Petri dishes … Hey Jim - pretty sure we could make white out from a wildebeest¸ let me see just add the citric acid, carry the one, add the two…nope not it. Hmm… you know what, I have a hunch for the glue though; quick -hand me that vile with Seabiscuit’s spleen…

Men have walked on the moon, I have an Google Earth app on my phone that allows me to view every inch of our planet with a few clicks, and I can instantaneously have a text message conversation with a person in Madagascar, but yet for some preposterous reason, a Bar back working behind the bar, can’t figure out how to pour a pint of beer. I’m completely sold on the fact that this position at local watering holes was created solely to make us patrons feel like we are taking it in the rear. Sure I like clean glasses as much as the next guy, but I also like clean glasses full of beer.

It usually goes something like this:

Me: Hi, I’ll take a Stella please.

Bar back grunts, yawns, grabs his junk, and then motions in the direction of an overworked bartender on the other end of the bar. He then scrupulously wipes down the counter, like he is Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel.

Me: Since you’re behind the bar, which means you work here, how about a Stella? It is right there in front of you.

Bar Back grunts again, then looks at me like he’s killed several before just for hinting at the idea. Then he proceeds to methodically wipe down the counter as slow as humanly possible.

Me: I can hold the glass, you can just pull that lever right there. It really will just take a second, I mean you have the beer and at least one good arm, and I have a glass awaiting a beverage.

The Bar Back becomes extremely agitated, offended that I’ve insulted what he’s perceived as an imperative role at the bar, while he feverishly wipes down the counter yet again.

Me: Alright well, how about I just stand here and look like an idiot, man that counter looks amazing.

You can read that as well as all my blogs at (all the hip kids are doing it)