Sunday, November 30, 2008
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Quarterfinals
Alright, alright. The pretenders have been disposed of, and all top eight seeds advanced to the quarterfinals. Aside from one song, all songs are from 1987 or 1991, and the two songs in the first quarterfinal match-up each represent one of those years: Enter Sandman by Metallica vs. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake. Vote on, my hard rock loving friends.
For Round 1 results, click here. For Round 2 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
For Round 1 results, click here. For Round 2 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Round 2 Results
In the final match-up of Round 2, Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana holds off against Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine by an 83%-17% margin.
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987) (73%)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991) (58%)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991) (83%)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987) (73%)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991) (58%)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991) (83%)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday Top Ten: Ultimate Hair Band Albums
With the long-awaited release of Chinese Democracy by Guns N' Roses (14 years that are gone forever, that I'll never have again), it makes sense to pay tribute the hair band era. I don't know if you know this about me, but I like hair band music. A lot. For me, the "Hair Band Era" started on July 25, 1980, which was the day that AC/DC released Back in Black (which, except for Michael Jackson's Thriller, has sold more units worldwide than any other album), and it ended for all intents and purposes on May 23, 1992, when Def Leppard's Adrenalize -- the last hair band album to reach No. 1 -- was knocked from the top of the album charts by, cough, Kris Kross's Totally Krossed Out. The nearly twelve years in between saw the release of some great and some not-so-great music from dudes who kept Aquanet and various distilleries and coca farms in business.
If someone came to me and was looking to start a hair band collection (and I encourage you all to do so), these are the ten albums I would tell them to purchase first.
10. Warrant - Cherry Pie (1990). It was a tough call between this one and Warrant's debut, Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinkin' Rich, but I went with Cherry Pie in the end because I think it's a little more representative of the height of the Hair Band Era: decadent, full of sexual innuendo, and a little bit cheesy. Obviously, the title track is a classic, full of innuendo (apparenly "cherry pie" isn't literal, as I had previously believed), and the album also contains two of the band's more successful ballads, "I Saw Red" and "Blind Faith." In addition, some of the lesser-known tracks are pretty solid, including "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "Sure Feels Good to Me," "You're the Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised," and "Love in Stereo" (which is about a young rocker's first threesome -- how perfectly hair band).
9. Whitesnake - Whitesnake (1987). A reworking of a song off of their 1982 Saints & Sinners album turned Whitesnake into hair band legends. That song, of course, is "Here I Go Again," and the video featuring then-attractive-and-not-crazy Tawny Kitaen spread eagle on the hood of a car didn't hurt. In addition to that anthem, the album features the ballad "Is This Love" (whose video also featured Kitaen), the Zeppelin-influenced "Still of the Night," the hard-rocking "Children of the Night," and the solid "Straight For the Heart."
8. Skid Row - Skid Row (1989). I rediscovered this album six or seven years ago, and it's actually a pretty underrated album, especially considering it was Skid Row's debut. Sebastian Bach has some pipes, and bassist Rachel Bolan used to have a chain connecting his nose ring to his earring (which doesn't really bear on the music, but I just think it's badass). The album has anthems ("Youth Gone Wild"), ballads ("I Remember You," "18 and Life"), and straight-up rockers ("Big Guns," "Sweet Little Sister," "Here I Am").
7. Poison - Look What the Cat Dragged In (1986). The debut from these glammers includes "Talk Dirty to Me," "I Want Action," "Cry Tough," "I Won't Forget You," and the title track. I went with this over their more popular second album, Open Up and Say . . . Ahh!, because I like this album better. Deal with it.
6. Mötley Crüe - Dr. Feelgood (1989). This album was made after the band attempted to get sober, and I think it is their best album. What other album features a song written about the songwriter's heart stopping due to a heroin overdose ("Kickstart My Heart")? The rest of the album is solid, too. Highlights include the title track (which is still a fun song to listen to after 19 years), "Same Ol' Situation (S.O.S)" (my favorite Mötley Crüe song), "Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)," and "Without You."
5. Bon Jovi - Slippery When Wet (1986). This is the album that vaulted Bon Jovi into superstardom, and with good reason. "Livin' On a Prayer," "You Give Love a Band Name," and "Wanted Dead or Alive" provide the backbone for the album, with "Never Say Goodbye" adding the heart, and "Raise Your Hands," "Wild in the Streets," "Let It Rock," and "Social Disease" filling in the gaps to form a pretty damn good album. It just too bad the original cover got canned for what is now recognized as a classic cover (which was written on a wet garbage bag).
4. Van Halen - 1984 (1984). I have vivid, if not haunting, memories of listening to this tape in my friend Sean Fitzgerald's house in Spring, Texas and loving it (and predictably jumping a lot while listening to it). I was seven, so I wasn't really aware of the whole controversy over Eddie playing synthesizer instead of guitar on some of the songs. Frankly, it was probably the first time I consciously knew I was listening to a band called Van Halen. All I knew is that "Jump" kicked ass and encouraged my love of jumping, "Panama" made me want to go to Panama to bang a chick, and "Hot for Teacher" still didn't really make me want to do Mrs. DeLeon, my first grade teacher. Again, I was seven. The concept of MILFs (or TILFs, I guess) was two or three years away. Anyway, in addition to the aforementioned songs, my favorite songs on the album are "Top Jimmy" and "Drop Dead Legs."
3. AC/DC - Back in Black (1980). After lead singer Bon Scott's untimely death, AC/DC regrouped with Brian Johnson at the helm and put out one of the best rock albums of all-time. From the title track to "You Shook Me All Night Long" to "Hells Bells" to "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution," this album is solid. And none of those are even my favorite songs on the album (that would be "Shoot to Thrill").
2. Guns N' Roses - Appetite for Destruction (1987). Forget hair band albums, Appetite is hands-down one of the best hard rock albums ever made. "Welcome to the Jungle," "Paradise City," and "Sweet Child O' Mine" are rock anthems, and the rest of the album simply kicks ass. My personal favorites are "Rocket Queen" (still my favorite GNR song), "My Michelle" (a true story about a friend of the band whose daddy worked in porno and mommy wasn't around due to a heroin overdose), "Mr. Brownstone," (Slash and Izzy's description of their normal days as heroin addicts), and "Nightrain" (an ode to cheap booze).
1. Def Leppard - Hysteria (1987). With seven Top 100 singles ("Animal," "Women," "Pour Some Sugar on Me," "Hysteria," "Armageddon It," "Love Bites," and "Rocket"), production postponed due to a lost arm, and a legendary supporting tour that has been compared favorably to Sodom and Gomorrah, this is the quintessential hair band album.
After that, go for these to continue to build your collection: Bon Jovi - New Jersey; Cinderella - Long Cold Winter; Def Leppard - High 'N' Dry; Def Leppard - Pyromania; Guns N' Roses - GN'R Lies; Guns N' Roses - Use Your Illusion I; Guns N' Roses - Use Your Illusion II; Mötley Crüe - Girls Girls Girls; Mötley Crüe - Too Fast For Love; Ozzy Osbourne - Blizzard of Ozz; Poison - Open Up and Say . . . Ahh!; Quiet Riot - Metal Health; Ratt - Out of the Cellar; Tesla - The Great Radio Controversy; Warrant - Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinkin' Rich; Van Halen - 5150; Van Halen - For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.
If someone came to me and was looking to start a hair band collection (and I encourage you all to do so), these are the ten albums I would tell them to purchase first.
10. Warrant - Cherry Pie (1990). It was a tough call between this one and Warrant's debut, Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinkin' Rich, but I went with Cherry Pie in the end because I think it's a little more representative of the height of the Hair Band Era: decadent, full of sexual innuendo, and a little bit cheesy. Obviously, the title track is a classic, full of innuendo (apparenly "cherry pie" isn't literal, as I had previously believed), and the album also contains two of the band's more successful ballads, "I Saw Red" and "Blind Faith." In addition, some of the lesser-known tracks are pretty solid, including "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "Sure Feels Good to Me," "You're the Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised," and "Love in Stereo" (which is about a young rocker's first threesome -- how perfectly hair band).
9. Whitesnake - Whitesnake (1987). A reworking of a song off of their 1982 Saints & Sinners album turned Whitesnake into hair band legends. That song, of course, is "Here I Go Again," and the video featuring then-attractive-and-not-crazy Tawny Kitaen spread eagle on the hood of a car didn't hurt. In addition to that anthem, the album features the ballad "Is This Love" (whose video also featured Kitaen), the Zeppelin-influenced "Still of the Night," the hard-rocking "Children of the Night," and the solid "Straight For the Heart."
8. Skid Row - Skid Row (1989). I rediscovered this album six or seven years ago, and it's actually a pretty underrated album, especially considering it was Skid Row's debut. Sebastian Bach has some pipes, and bassist Rachel Bolan used to have a chain connecting his nose ring to his earring (which doesn't really bear on the music, but I just think it's badass). The album has anthems ("Youth Gone Wild"), ballads ("I Remember You," "18 and Life"), and straight-up rockers ("Big Guns," "Sweet Little Sister," "Here I Am").
7. Poison - Look What the Cat Dragged In (1986). The debut from these glammers includes "Talk Dirty to Me," "I Want Action," "Cry Tough," "I Won't Forget You," and the title track. I went with this over their more popular second album, Open Up and Say . . . Ahh!, because I like this album better. Deal with it.
6. Mötley Crüe - Dr. Feelgood (1989). This album was made after the band attempted to get sober, and I think it is their best album. What other album features a song written about the songwriter's heart stopping due to a heroin overdose ("Kickstart My Heart")? The rest of the album is solid, too. Highlights include the title track (which is still a fun song to listen to after 19 years), "Same Ol' Situation (S.O.S)" (my favorite Mötley Crüe song), "Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)," and "Without You."
5. Bon Jovi - Slippery When Wet (1986). This is the album that vaulted Bon Jovi into superstardom, and with good reason. "Livin' On a Prayer," "You Give Love a Band Name," and "Wanted Dead or Alive" provide the backbone for the album, with "Never Say Goodbye" adding the heart, and "Raise Your Hands," "Wild in the Streets," "Let It Rock," and "Social Disease" filling in the gaps to form a pretty damn good album. It just too bad the original cover got canned for what is now recognized as a classic cover (which was written on a wet garbage bag).
4. Van Halen - 1984 (1984). I have vivid, if not haunting, memories of listening to this tape in my friend Sean Fitzgerald's house in Spring, Texas and loving it (and predictably jumping a lot while listening to it). I was seven, so I wasn't really aware of the whole controversy over Eddie playing synthesizer instead of guitar on some of the songs. Frankly, it was probably the first time I consciously knew I was listening to a band called Van Halen. All I knew is that "Jump" kicked ass and encouraged my love of jumping, "Panama" made me want to go to Panama to bang a chick, and "Hot for Teacher" still didn't really make me want to do Mrs. DeLeon, my first grade teacher. Again, I was seven. The concept of MILFs (or TILFs, I guess) was two or three years away. Anyway, in addition to the aforementioned songs, my favorite songs on the album are "Top Jimmy" and "Drop Dead Legs."
3. AC/DC - Back in Black (1980). After lead singer Bon Scott's untimely death, AC/DC regrouped with Brian Johnson at the helm and put out one of the best rock albums of all-time. From the title track to "You Shook Me All Night Long" to "Hells Bells" to "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution," this album is solid. And none of those are even my favorite songs on the album (that would be "Shoot to Thrill").
2. Guns N' Roses - Appetite for Destruction (1987). Forget hair band albums, Appetite is hands-down one of the best hard rock albums ever made. "Welcome to the Jungle," "Paradise City," and "Sweet Child O' Mine" are rock anthems, and the rest of the album simply kicks ass. My personal favorites are "Rocket Queen" (still my favorite GNR song), "My Michelle" (a true story about a friend of the band whose daddy worked in porno and mommy wasn't around due to a heroin overdose), "Mr. Brownstone," (Slash and Izzy's description of their normal days as heroin addicts), and "Nightrain" (an ode to cheap booze).
1. Def Leppard - Hysteria (1987). With seven Top 100 singles ("Animal," "Women," "Pour Some Sugar on Me," "Hysteria," "Armageddon It," "Love Bites," and "Rocket"), production postponed due to a lost arm, and a legendary supporting tour that has been compared favorably to Sodom and Gomorrah, this is the quintessential hair band album.
After that, go for these to continue to build your collection: Bon Jovi - New Jersey; Cinderella - Long Cold Winter; Def Leppard - High 'N' Dry; Def Leppard - Pyromania; Guns N' Roses - GN'R Lies; Guns N' Roses - Use Your Illusion I; Guns N' Roses - Use Your Illusion II; Mötley Crüe - Girls Girls Girls; Mötley Crüe - Too Fast For Love; Ozzy Osbourne - Blizzard of Ozz; Poison - Open Up and Say . . . Ahh!; Quiet Riot - Metal Health; Ratt - Out of the Cellar; Tesla - The Great Radio Controversy; Warrant - Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinkin' Rich; Van Halen - 5150; Van Halen - For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.
Monday, November 24, 2008
CD Review: Guns N' Roses - Chinese Democracy
Chinese Democracy by Guns N' Roses -- perhaps the most long-awaited album this side of Smile -- was released today. It arrived this morning (I pre-ordered it), allowing me to listen to it over and over again for most of the day (which I do with all new CDs). I had debated about whether or not to write a review, but luckily I do not have to do so. Tron sent me a link to a review of Chinese Democracy on The Onion AV Club website by none other than my favorite author, Chuck Klosterman. After reading Klosterman's review, I have predictably come to the conclusion that I could not have written anything better. Anyway, check the review out, and check the album out as well. I wasn't sure what to expect, yet the album is about what I expected. If that doesn't make any sense, it shouldn't. I haven't listened to it enough to comment on the lyrical content, but sonically, some of the songs are in the vein of "Estranged," picking up where Use Your Illusion left off, while others are somewhat strange, while others are grandiose, while others are ball busters. Axl can still wail. Frankly, I'm just glad it didn't suck.
Overall, I'd give it 4 Handrews.* Thus far, my favorite songs are "Shackler's Revenge," "I.R.S.," and "Better."
*GMYH CD Review Scale:
-6 Handrews - Buy it now. NOW!!
-5 Handrews - Excellent album that you should seriously consider purchasing in the near future
-4 Handrews - Very good album that you should at least check out on iTunes
-3 Handrews - If you want it, download it illegally
-2 Handrews - Somewhere between Britney Spears and William Hung
-1 Handrew - Ashlee Simpson
-0 Handrews - PopoZao
Overall, I'd give it 4 Handrews.* Thus far, my favorite songs are "Shackler's Revenge," "I.R.S.," and "Better."
*GMYH CD Review Scale:
-6 Handrews - Buy it now. NOW!!
-5 Handrews - Excellent album that you should seriously consider purchasing in the near future
-4 Handrews - Very good album that you should at least check out on iTunes
-3 Handrews - If you want it, download it illegally
-2 Handrews - Somewhere between Britney Spears and William Hung
-1 Handrew - Ashlee Simpson
-0 Handrews - PopoZao
Unanswered Questions
First off, I'd like to apologize for abruptly leaving the Lincoln Tap Room Saturday night, but to all who missed my presence, hopefully this will explain why I had to leave at once and why I could not return.
At 9:45, I received a text message from Sarah "What the fuck happened to us?" Ede/Lambe -- who, admittedly, I was married to for a brief time in the mid '90s, when we raised an egg baby together in sophomore health class. She was at Southport Lanes with Dan "No, seriously, what the fuck happened to us?" Hucker, as well as various other LT Class of '96ers who did not care what the fuck had happened to us. The text message said, in pertinent part, "I'm sitting with Dan right now and we're wondering . . . was there anything weird about that confirmation retreat we went on?" A few more text messages went back and forth about said retreat (Dan, Sarah, and I all were in the same confirmation class at St. Cletus, back in the day), and there were nothing but questions about what went on at this retreat.
Until that moment, I'm not sure I had thought of or remembered that retreat since it happened. A rush of confusion hit me as hard as I may have been hit in the head before being abducted and taken to this retreat. Now, I have what I would consider a pretty damn good memory, and I think I would certainly remember most of the details of a retreat with a group of people that was as good at cracking each other up as any I've rolled with. Hell, I remember stupid little things like the time Dan, Sarah, and I were standing in the second pew during one of many confirmation-related ceremonies at the church and laughing so quietly hard (church laughing -- you know what I'm talking about) that Father Klees was giving us the stink eye the entire time. Sarah even laughed out loud at one point, forcing Mrs. Barr (our confirmation teacher) to stand between us (which did little to curb any laughter). Yet I could not remember more than a few scant details about this retreat. On most occasions, I would not leave an all-you-can-drink event after only being there for an hour and a half (it's just not economically sound to do so), but I needed answers. So I headed over to Southport Lanes around 10:30.
Upon my arrival, I stole someone's chair, and Dan, Sarah, and I began discussing this retreat at once. It was within the last year or so before confirmation. None of us remember much about it, which we all agree is extremely weird because we were all 15 or 16 at that point and hadn't yet gotten into drinking, sedatives, or powerful hallucinogens. We do know that almost our entire class was there, except Woj, who for some reason got to skip it because he went to Catholic grade school and junior high, and the other St. Cletus confirmation class was there as well (we think), so there were probably about 20-25 people at this retreat. We don't know whether Mrs. Barr was there.
We don't remember where it was or how we got there. It may have been in Illinois, Indiana, or Wisconsin, and we really have no idea whether we took a bus there or what, which is weird because we generally remember most confirmation- or CCD-related bus trips we took together, since it was our singular goal during said trips to crack each other up.
We can't remember the sleeping arrangements, but Sarah seems to think everyone slept in a big room, and I also vaguely recall sleeping on the floor (or at least that there was a floor).
I vaguely remember that it was a somewhat odd older couple that ran the retreat. I don't remember being impregnated by the devil, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.
We do remember that we had to put on a skit, which was "COPS Meets Seinfeld" (and it was hilarious). This dude Gene was Kramer, and Anne was Elaine, and I may have been Jerry, George, or one of the cops. I should remember who I was, but I don't. We don't remember if we had any Inner Circle there to give the skit an increased air of legitimacy. There may have been a video made of this skit.
We remember that we all got letters at the retreat that family members had written to us. Dan remembers that his started with "Dear Danforth," which was a joke because he had recently gotten glasses for the first time, so his dad called him Danforth. Sarah remembers her letter as having been written by various members of her family. I remember there being a letter, but I have no idea what was written or who it was written by (although it was likely, "Dear Andrew, You're awesome. Keep up the good work. Love, Santa Claus, Michael Jordan, and David Bowie.").
Sarah remembers waking up clutching a teddy bear and crying her eyes out, but she has no idea why she was crying or where the teddy bear came from.
That's about all the three of us could piece together. What. The. Fuck. Why can't we remember anything about this? I feel like we were part of some fucked up movie, along the lines of a combination of The Game, Memento, and Caddyshack. Were we given some fucked up Kool Aid? Was the old man running the retreat actually Jim Jones? How come we can't remember where it was or how we got there? Why was Sarah crying? And how did she get that teddy bear? Was it really necessary that we slaughter that calf? Were we molested? If so, to what extent? How many days were we there? What did we eat there? DID we eat there? Where is that video of that skit? No seriously, I want to see it. It was some funny shit.
Sarah's husband Mike, who went to neighboring parish St. John's, does not recall any similar retreat happening over there. (That doesn't mean it didn't happen, Mike.)
I texted Greg Weeser* Saturday night, since he was in the same confirmation class as us and would surely remember this. He had no recollection at all about it. A follow-up email with further details has not yet been returned, which I assume means Mrs. Barr has already reached Greg and silenced him.
Sunday I asked Christoff, who went to another neighboring parish, St. Francis, and he didn't recall something similar, until I mentioned something about the letters from family members, and then his eyes widened, he said, "wait a minute," and then started freaking out.
Jessie seems to think that all three of us (Dan, Sarah, and I) are somehow transposing memories of different events. Then again, my wife is godless, so what does she know?
I thought about asking my mom about it, but she was undoubtedly in on it and likely put peyote in my oatmeal -- or would that be peyoatmeal? -- for breakfast the morning before I was taken against my will to wherever this thing was. I trust no one.
So anyway, to everyone I ditched at Lincoln Tap, I apologize for what may have seemed like erratic and selfish behavior. Bear in mind I had been drinking all day, doing a bit of long snapping, and hanging out with Steve McMichael at the Cubby Bear.
At 9:45, I received a text message from Sarah "What the fuck happened to us?" Ede/Lambe -- who, admittedly, I was married to for a brief time in the mid '90s, when we raised an egg baby together in sophomore health class. She was at Southport Lanes with Dan "No, seriously, what the fuck happened to us?" Hucker, as well as various other LT Class of '96ers who did not care what the fuck had happened to us. The text message said, in pertinent part, "I'm sitting with Dan right now and we're wondering . . . was there anything weird about that confirmation retreat we went on?" A few more text messages went back and forth about said retreat (Dan, Sarah, and I all were in the same confirmation class at St. Cletus, back in the day), and there were nothing but questions about what went on at this retreat.
Until that moment, I'm not sure I had thought of or remembered that retreat since it happened. A rush of confusion hit me as hard as I may have been hit in the head before being abducted and taken to this retreat. Now, I have what I would consider a pretty damn good memory, and I think I would certainly remember most of the details of a retreat with a group of people that was as good at cracking each other up as any I've rolled with. Hell, I remember stupid little things like the time Dan, Sarah, and I were standing in the second pew during one of many confirmation-related ceremonies at the church and laughing so quietly hard (church laughing -- you know what I'm talking about) that Father Klees was giving us the stink eye the entire time. Sarah even laughed out loud at one point, forcing Mrs. Barr (our confirmation teacher) to stand between us (which did little to curb any laughter). Yet I could not remember more than a few scant details about this retreat. On most occasions, I would not leave an all-you-can-drink event after only being there for an hour and a half (it's just not economically sound to do so), but I needed answers. So I headed over to Southport Lanes around 10:30.
Upon my arrival, I stole someone's chair, and Dan, Sarah, and I began discussing this retreat at once. It was within the last year or so before confirmation. None of us remember much about it, which we all agree is extremely weird because we were all 15 or 16 at that point and hadn't yet gotten into drinking, sedatives, or powerful hallucinogens. We do know that almost our entire class was there, except Woj, who for some reason got to skip it because he went to Catholic grade school and junior high, and the other St. Cletus confirmation class was there as well (we think), so there were probably about 20-25 people at this retreat. We don't know whether Mrs. Barr was there.
We don't remember where it was or how we got there. It may have been in Illinois, Indiana, or Wisconsin, and we really have no idea whether we took a bus there or what, which is weird because we generally remember most confirmation- or CCD-related bus trips we took together, since it was our singular goal during said trips to crack each other up.
We can't remember the sleeping arrangements, but Sarah seems to think everyone slept in a big room, and I also vaguely recall sleeping on the floor (or at least that there was a floor).
I vaguely remember that it was a somewhat odd older couple that ran the retreat. I don't remember being impregnated by the devil, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.
We do remember that we had to put on a skit, which was "COPS Meets Seinfeld" (and it was hilarious). This dude Gene was Kramer, and Anne was Elaine, and I may have been Jerry, George, or one of the cops. I should remember who I was, but I don't. We don't remember if we had any Inner Circle there to give the skit an increased air of legitimacy. There may have been a video made of this skit.
We remember that we all got letters at the retreat that family members had written to us. Dan remembers that his started with "Dear Danforth," which was a joke because he had recently gotten glasses for the first time, so his dad called him Danforth. Sarah remembers her letter as having been written by various members of her family. I remember there being a letter, but I have no idea what was written or who it was written by (although it was likely, "Dear Andrew, You're awesome. Keep up the good work. Love, Santa Claus, Michael Jordan, and David Bowie.").
Sarah remembers waking up clutching a teddy bear and crying her eyes out, but she has no idea why she was crying or where the teddy bear came from.
That's about all the three of us could piece together. What. The. Fuck. Why can't we remember anything about this? I feel like we were part of some fucked up movie, along the lines of a combination of The Game, Memento, and Caddyshack. Were we given some fucked up Kool Aid? Was the old man running the retreat actually Jim Jones? How come we can't remember where it was or how we got there? Why was Sarah crying? And how did she get that teddy bear? Was it really necessary that we slaughter that calf? Were we molested? If so, to what extent? How many days were we there? What did we eat there? DID we eat there? Where is that video of that skit? No seriously, I want to see it. It was some funny shit.
Sarah's husband Mike, who went to neighboring parish St. John's, does not recall any similar retreat happening over there. (That doesn't mean it didn't happen, Mike.)
I texted Greg Weeser* Saturday night, since he was in the same confirmation class as us and would surely remember this. He had no recollection at all about it. A follow-up email with further details has not yet been returned, which I assume means Mrs. Barr has already reached Greg and silenced him.
Sunday I asked Christoff, who went to another neighboring parish, St. Francis, and he didn't recall something similar, until I mentioned something about the letters from family members, and then his eyes widened, he said, "wait a minute," and then started freaking out.
Jessie seems to think that all three of us (Dan, Sarah, and I) are somehow transposing memories of different events. Then again, my wife is godless, so what does she know?
I thought about asking my mom about it, but she was undoubtedly in on it and likely put peyote in my oatmeal -- or would that be peyoatmeal? -- for breakfast the morning before I was taken against my will to wherever this thing was. I trust no one.
So anyway, to everyone I ditched at Lincoln Tap, I apologize for what may have seemed like erratic and selfish behavior. Bear in mind I had been drinking all day, doing a bit of long snapping, and hanging out with Steve McMichael at the Cubby Bear.
Needless to say, I was already teetering on the edge of instability. And then this retreat came up, and there are just some things that had apparently been blocked from your memory that you need to figure out immediately. Of course, I didn't figure much out.
If anyone else who went through confirmation at St. Cletus can fill me in (or if other former Catholics went on a similar retreat during their confirmation process), I know at least three people who would be greatly appreciative.
Shit I Hate: The fact that iTunes has removed its shuffle settings
Everyday at work, the only thing that keeps me from walking through a plate glass window and falling 27 stories to a spectacularly memorable death is the fact that I can randomly listen to the 4810 songs on my iPod. I like the fact that I can go months without hearing a song twice. It keeps me spry and on-edge -- ready for anything. Lately, however, I've noticed a change in my iPod. Sure, it's still shuffling songs, but it's not as random as it used to be. Look, I love Heart's "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You" as much as the next guy -- hell, my sixth grade girlfriend and I used to look at each other to that song -- but it loses its panache when I hear it once a day. And no one should be forced to hear two songs in a row from the same album, much less Cypress Hill's Black Sunday. Anyway, I figured that since I had recently downloaded the new iTunes (version 8, I believe), maybe the shuffle settings reset. You see, in the previous versions of iTunes, you could simply go into the settings and there was a sliding bar for the randomness of the shuffle settings: Less Random on one side and More Random on the other. It made perfect sense and, from what I could tell, transferred those settings to my iPod, since I rarely, if ever, heard two songs from the same album within a few days of each other. I liked that. One night last week, I searched the new iTunes for almost an hour looking for that damn bar. I figured maybe I was searching in the wrong menus (or maybe they had moved it or maybe iTunes was a figment of my imagination), so I did some quick online research only to find that I was not alone. The new iTunes has become self-aware and it has removed the ability to control the randomness of shuffle settings. I hate that. Please change it back, iTunes, lest you want to be on the business end of an A to the motherfuckin' K, homeboy.
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Round 2 Update
Even Flow by Pearl Jam hold off Mother by Danzig by a 58%-42% clip. In the last match-up of Round 2, Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana faces off against Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine.
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987) (73%)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991) (58%)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987) (73%)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991) (58%)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Round 2 Update
Sweet Child O' Mine beats down Plush by 73%-27% margin. Next up is Even Flow by Pearl Jam vs. Mother by Danzig.
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987) (73%)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987) (73%)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Sunstream Travel
This morning (by "this" I mean "Friday") at 7:58 -- yes, 7:58 a.m. -- I received a call from Amber at Sunstream Travel, offering me -- you guessed it -- a free four-day cruise on Royal Caribbean. And you're not gonna believe this: if I could come in and listen to their hour-long presentation either today or tomorrow, they would throw in airfare as well. And then I would be entered in the Ultimate Sports Giveaway. According to Amber, I had signed up for this at a Cubs game. If this sounds at all familiar, it's because I received the same fucking call less than two weeks ago from Sundance Vacations (which, as you may have guessed, is one in the same as Sunstream). Amber, insolent as always, insisted that I come in as early as 4 p.m. this afternoon (with my wife, of course) to attend a presentation. As tactfully as I could, I explained that I am having a two-day party/skullfucking orgy/wine tasting, so this weekend is bad for me.
Amber: "Aww, that's unfortunate."
Me: "Uh, not for me."
Amber: "Well the thing is, I can only give you the free airfare if you come in today or tomorrow. Are you sure there's not an hour you can squeeze in tomorrow?"
Me: "Stanford!"
Amber: "What?"
Me: "Oh, I thought you asked me for Sally Ride's alma mater."
Amber: "No, I was asking if you could come in for an hour tomorrow?"
Me: "Amber, the only thing I'm going to come in for an hour tomorrow is an eye socket."
Amber: "Boy, I walked right into that one!"
(She laughs for a few seconds, while I cackle loudly and uncomfortably for several minutes.)
Me: "Amber, you are a stitch. In all honesty, even if I did have an hour to spare tomorrow, I don't think I'd be up for anything. Quite frankly, drinking Chablis all day and skullfucking -- especially the receiving end -- take a lot out of me. Maybe call me earlier in the morning next time."
Amber: "Okay, well let me give you my number and extension in case anything changes."
Me: "I'm gonna have to go with Jim . . . fucking . . . Plunkett."
Amber: "What?"
Me: "You asked me 'Who was the only Stanford grad to win the Heisman and the Super Bowl?' Jim Plunkett. What's the deal with your Stanford fixation? Is that part of the Ultimate Sports Giveaway? A trip to Palo Alto to watch the Stanford women's cross country team compete in a running competition against other colleges' teams?"
Amber: "I asked if I could give you my number."
Me: "I'd be delighted. Just don't tell my wife!"
(She laughs for a few seconds, while I laugh loudly for several minutes. It's not so much laughing as it is howling like a werewolf.)
Amber: "1-800-blah blah blah . . ."
(At this point I was tuning her out while arranging some skulls.)
Me: "Uh huh, mm hmm, uh huh. Oh a six. I wasn't expecting that. But then again I should've, given that the Stanford women's cross country team will be competing for their sixth national title this year. Uh huh, uh huh, mm-kay. Got it. Amber, this has been a treat, hasn't it?"
Amber: "There wasn't a six anywhere in the number."
Me: "Nonsense. Now let me speak to Melanie at once!"
Amber: "Aww, that's unfortunate."
Me: "Uh, not for me."
Amber: "Well the thing is, I can only give you the free airfare if you come in today or tomorrow. Are you sure there's not an hour you can squeeze in tomorrow?"
Me: "Stanford!"
Amber: "What?"
Me: "Oh, I thought you asked me for Sally Ride's alma mater."
Amber: "No, I was asking if you could come in for an hour tomorrow?"
Me: "Amber, the only thing I'm going to come in for an hour tomorrow is an eye socket."
Amber: "Boy, I walked right into that one!"
(She laughs for a few seconds, while I cackle loudly and uncomfortably for several minutes.)
Me: "Amber, you are a stitch. In all honesty, even if I did have an hour to spare tomorrow, I don't think I'd be up for anything. Quite frankly, drinking Chablis all day and skullfucking -- especially the receiving end -- take a lot out of me. Maybe call me earlier in the morning next time."
Amber: "Okay, well let me give you my number and extension in case anything changes."
Me: "I'm gonna have to go with Jim . . . fucking . . . Plunkett."
Amber: "What?"
Me: "You asked me 'Who was the only Stanford grad to win the Heisman and the Super Bowl?' Jim Plunkett. What's the deal with your Stanford fixation? Is that part of the Ultimate Sports Giveaway? A trip to Palo Alto to watch the Stanford women's cross country team compete in a running competition against other colleges' teams?"
Amber: "I asked if I could give you my number."
Me: "I'd be delighted. Just don't tell my wife!"
(She laughs for a few seconds, while I laugh loudly for several minutes. It's not so much laughing as it is howling like a werewolf.)
Amber: "1-800-blah blah blah . . ."
(At this point I was tuning her out while arranging some skulls.)
Me: "Uh huh, mm hmm, uh huh. Oh a six. I wasn't expecting that. But then again I should've, given that the Stanford women's cross country team will be competing for their sixth national title this year. Uh huh, uh huh, mm-kay. Got it. Amber, this has been a treat, hasn't it?"
Amber: "There wasn't a six anywhere in the number."
Me: "Nonsense. Now let me speak to Melanie at once!"
Paying Your Bill, Aussie Style
The next time I'm in arrears (and no, Holt, that doesn't mean going two hole), I'm going to try to pay like this guy did. Awesome is the only way to describe it. Thanks to Christoff for the link.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Round 2 Update
Livin' On a Prayer hold of, cough, Loser, by a 60%-40% margin. Next up is Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses vs. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots.
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986) (60%)
14. Loser by Beck (1994)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Shit I Hate: Purdue University
It's well-documented that I despise Purdue, and most of what I have to say about that school was stated in no uncertain terms last year. But with the Old Oaken Bucket game scheduled for Saturday at Noon EST (how a game between two 3-8 teams got an ESPN2 slot baffles me, but I'll take it), it is imperative that I renew my hatred before God and this congregation.
Every year about this time, my hatred of Purdue sneaks up on me and then unleashes itself the week before the Bucket game. And when it does show up, it's all-encompassing. You don't want to be around me when I'm watching that game, certainly not with any children who aren't deaf. Let's be clear about one thing. I. Fucking. Hate. Purdue. From its lethargic, overfed co-eds to its disturbing fascination with oversized percussion instruments, there is literally nothing to like about that school.
This year's Bucket game is (unfortunately for everyone involved) in West Lafayette, a rotting carcass of a city where it has been statistically proven that the sun has never shone. Seriously, it's overcast there all the time, which probably has a lot to do with the layer of smog that constantly hangs over West Lafayette, comprised of industrial effluence, manure (human and animal), and the souls of the damned. I guess God doesn't want to scare the aliens away.
And those of you who have been to Ross-Ade Stadium know that it is nothing more than a glorified high school stadium, with rickety bleachers from which you watch guys in piss-yellow jerseys ask each other "you heard that new Brad Paisley song?" It doesn't even have permanent lights. Do they not want to attract flies? I would think that would be impossible, given the number of hog farms on campus. What's that? Those are sororities?! I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since hot chicks generally don't go for aggies or dudes who are way into making go-karts.
And God forbid you're around when Purdue gets a first down. The crowd counts to four. Yep, four. Four = first down. Four also equals the number of attractive women that most of these people have ever seen in person. I hate to dwell on this, but Purdue is the kind of school where Leatherface has a legitimate shot of winning Homecoming Queen.
This will be Purdue head coach Joe Tiller's last game. Good riddance to that walrus-looking motherfucker and his 75 pass attempts a game. Leave it to Purdue to ride their winningest coach out on a rail, but then again they do have a fucking train for a mascot, so it probably made sense to their AD. Retirement will, however, give Tiller more time to devote to his television campaign against "die-ah-be-tis." But seriously, even more annoying than the "1, 2, 3, 4" cheer is the "boiler up" cheer that Tiller accidentally brought with him from Wyoming, where he coached before arriving in hell eleven years ago. "But that makes no sense, GMYH. Wyoming's mascot is the Cowboy." Quite astute, fair reader. Wyoming's cheer was (and might still be) "cowboy up." This makes sense, as the phrase "cowboy up" originated in the bull-riding and rodeo world as a motivational phrase meaning "fight through adversity no matter how tough the odds," such as when a cowboy was thrown from a bull and then gored within an inch of his life. "Cowboy up" = "get back up and show the next bull whose boss." At Wyoming games, therefore, the phrase "cowboy up" is symbolic of being ready to go into battle with a beast and keeping at it until said beast is tamed, if not brutally slaughtered by circus clowns. The geniuses at Purdue changed it to "boiler up," apparently to indicate that, if need be, they are ready to hoist a boiler to a height higher than it is currently hoisted. Grrrr! Up, I say, goes that boiler! Take that, opponent!
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Purdue offers nothing of value to society. I know what you're thinking: "But GMYH, they make boilers at Purdue! It says so in their name." Despite their nickname implying otherwise, they do not actually make boilers at Purdue. In fact, the only three things they make at Purdue are: stupid cheers, the least-successful overall athletic program in the Big Ten, and farts. Did you know that less than four percent of Purdue grads go on to continue their education at accredited four-year colleges? Admittedly, their taxidermy certificate program is among the fifteen best in central Tippecanoe County. And one thing they do teach very well at Purdue is that there is more than one way to skin a cat . . . or a possum . . . or a squirrel . . . or anything else one hits with a 1989 Ford Ranger. I think that's actually the title of a 400-level animal agribusiness class.
The irony of the fact that the title of this post starts with the word "Shit" should not be lost on anyone other than Purdue grads, most of who believe that "irony" has something to do with having sex with an iron. Purdue has to be the only school in the world located in a city that actually had to buy a giant fan to blow the stench of shit away from the city, which is weird because Purdue students admittedly LOVE the smell of shit.
Despite all of the school's shortcomings, Purdue fans continue to talk shit (I mean that figuratively, although they undoubtedly literally talk about fecal matter, given its documented prevalence in and around their campus and their vaunted horticulture program). Their school literally smells like excrement, they have (in their entire history) two NCAA championships across all sports, they haven't been to a Final Four (in men's basketball) since the year Reagan was first elected, it's the only Big Ten public school not listed among the "Public Ivies," their women are ugly, their campus is ugly, their old basketball coach looks like Mama Fratelli, their new basketball coach looks like Sloth, and their school's initials are P.U. Yet they still find a way to talk smack about another state school that is literally heaven on Earth. This, my friends, is why I hate Purdue and why, once again, I ask you to hate Purdue too, even if only for three hours Saturday afternoon.
Every year about this time, my hatred of Purdue sneaks up on me and then unleashes itself the week before the Bucket game. And when it does show up, it's all-encompassing. You don't want to be around me when I'm watching that game, certainly not with any children who aren't deaf. Let's be clear about one thing. I. Fucking. Hate. Purdue. From its lethargic, overfed co-eds to its disturbing fascination with oversized percussion instruments, there is literally nothing to like about that school.
This year's Bucket game is (unfortunately for everyone involved) in West Lafayette, a rotting carcass of a city where it has been statistically proven that the sun has never shone. Seriously, it's overcast there all the time, which probably has a lot to do with the layer of smog that constantly hangs over West Lafayette, comprised of industrial effluence, manure (human and animal), and the souls of the damned. I guess God doesn't want to scare the aliens away.
And those of you who have been to Ross-Ade Stadium know that it is nothing more than a glorified high school stadium, with rickety bleachers from which you watch guys in piss-yellow jerseys ask each other "you heard that new Brad Paisley song?" It doesn't even have permanent lights. Do they not want to attract flies? I would think that would be impossible, given the number of hog farms on campus. What's that? Those are sororities?! I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since hot chicks generally don't go for aggies or dudes who are way into making go-karts.
And God forbid you're around when Purdue gets a first down. The crowd counts to four. Yep, four. Four = first down. Four also equals the number of attractive women that most of these people have ever seen in person. I hate to dwell on this, but Purdue is the kind of school where Leatherface has a legitimate shot of winning Homecoming Queen.
This will be Purdue head coach Joe Tiller's last game. Good riddance to that walrus-looking motherfucker and his 75 pass attempts a game. Leave it to Purdue to ride their winningest coach out on a rail, but then again they do have a fucking train for a mascot, so it probably made sense to their AD. Retirement will, however, give Tiller more time to devote to his television campaign against "die-ah-be-tis." But seriously, even more annoying than the "1, 2, 3, 4" cheer is the "boiler up" cheer that Tiller accidentally brought with him from Wyoming, where he coached before arriving in hell eleven years ago. "But that makes no sense, GMYH. Wyoming's mascot is the Cowboy." Quite astute, fair reader. Wyoming's cheer was (and might still be) "cowboy up." This makes sense, as the phrase "cowboy up" originated in the bull-riding and rodeo world as a motivational phrase meaning "fight through adversity no matter how tough the odds," such as when a cowboy was thrown from a bull and then gored within an inch of his life. "Cowboy up" = "get back up and show the next bull whose boss." At Wyoming games, therefore, the phrase "cowboy up" is symbolic of being ready to go into battle with a beast and keeping at it until said beast is tamed, if not brutally slaughtered by circus clowns. The geniuses at Purdue changed it to "boiler up," apparently to indicate that, if need be, they are ready to hoist a boiler to a height higher than it is currently hoisted. Grrrr! Up, I say, goes that boiler! Take that, opponent!
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Purdue offers nothing of value to society. I know what you're thinking: "But GMYH, they make boilers at Purdue! It says so in their name." Despite their nickname implying otherwise, they do not actually make boilers at Purdue. In fact, the only three things they make at Purdue are: stupid cheers, the least-successful overall athletic program in the Big Ten, and farts. Did you know that less than four percent of Purdue grads go on to continue their education at accredited four-year colleges? Admittedly, their taxidermy certificate program is among the fifteen best in central Tippecanoe County. And one thing they do teach very well at Purdue is that there is more than one way to skin a cat . . . or a possum . . . or a squirrel . . . or anything else one hits with a 1989 Ford Ranger. I think that's actually the title of a 400-level animal agribusiness class.
The irony of the fact that the title of this post starts with the word "Shit" should not be lost on anyone other than Purdue grads, most of who believe that "irony" has something to do with having sex with an iron. Purdue has to be the only school in the world located in a city that actually had to buy a giant fan to blow the stench of shit away from the city, which is weird because Purdue students admittedly LOVE the smell of shit.
Despite all of the school's shortcomings, Purdue fans continue to talk shit (I mean that figuratively, although they undoubtedly literally talk about fecal matter, given its documented prevalence in and around their campus and their vaunted horticulture program). Their school literally smells like excrement, they have (in their entire history) two NCAA championships across all sports, they haven't been to a Final Four (in men's basketball) since the year Reagan was first elected, it's the only Big Ten public school not listed among the "Public Ivies," their women are ugly, their campus is ugly, their old basketball coach looks like Mama Fratelli, their new basketball coach looks like Sloth, and their school's initials are P.U. Yet they still find a way to talk smack about another state school that is literally heaven on Earth. This, my friends, is why I hate Purdue and why, once again, I ask you to hate Purdue too, even if only for three hours Saturday afternoon.
More About 30 in 8
If you want to see just how much of a shit show 15 in 8 was and, more importantly, how much of a bigger shit show the post-15-in-8-and-30-in-8 conglomeration at Rocks turned out to be, check out this post on So I Got That Going For Me . . . , which is written by Erica, one of the ladies who competed in 15 in 8. The pictures (and the blank, soulless eyes looking back at the camera) more accurately depict the scene than anything I can write, especially this one, which is a conglomeration of intoxication.
Foreign Accent Syndrome
Well, this explains why, after I fell off a table and hit my head on the concrete basement floor in late 1985 or early 1986, I involuntarily traded my Houstonian drawl for a Chicago accent.
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Round 2 Update
Pour Some Sugar On Me pours it on Are You Gonna Go My Way? with a resounding 90%-10% victory. The next match-up is Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi vs. Loser by Beck.
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
14. Loser by Beck (1994) (64%)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987) (90%)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
14. Loser by Beck (1994) (64%)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Tuesday Top Ten: Things Not to Say on a First Date
A few weeks ago, I came across this article on Yahoo entitled "10 things NOT to say on a first date." Here is their list:
1. "My ex is crazy."
2. "I would like to get married and have kids asap."
3. "Who are you voting for?"
4. "Can you pay the check? I'm broke."
5. "What's your favorite TV show?"
6. "Where did you go to school?"
7. "Can I take your picture?"
8. "I'm poly-(fill in the blank)"
9. "So I just got out of rehab."
10. "So ya wanna come back to my place?"
I found some to be fairly accurate and some to be pretty painfully obvious. Really, I shouldn't tell her I'm a polygamist or ask to take her picture? They might as well have put "I'm really into necrobestiality" on the list. But the more I thought about it, their list still left some other faux pas (I'll admit that I have no idea how to make that plural, so I'll just leave it as it is, since it ends in an "s") off that I think are worth mentioning. And it's not like anyone actually says, "So I just got out of rehab" on a first date, unless the date has gone so horribly and the person just wants an out. Personally, I prefer, "Shit, that's my wife calling. I should take this. She's been kind of a wreck since our little girl started chemo this morning."
Anyway, here are ten things you definitely should not say on a first date:
10. "Oh God! What's that on your face?!" There are two things wrong with this one. First, you should never bring up religion on a first date. Second, you shouldn't be looking him/her in the face until after you've bagged him/her. Always maintain an air of elusiveness and indifference until then.
9. "Care to dance?" For a guy, nothing throws out the gay vibe like asking a girl to dance. For a girl, pretty much every guy will assume you're a whore if you want to dance. And why the fuck is your first date at a discotheque anyway? Note: this is completely inapplicable to same-sex first dates, since those almost exclusively revolve around dancing.
8. "I hate rubbers." Of course you do. Everyone does. No need to state the obvious when you could be using that time to buy her another kamikaze.
7. "My ex is your mom." Under no circumstances should you be on a date with your daughter.
6. "Let me pick up the check." You might as well say, "Hi, I'm a giant asshole and I have more money than you. After I pay this, perhaps you can bow down to me, as I am so obviously your superior."
5. "I'm a virgin." This is as much of a turn-off as "Oooh, actually, I don't do anal." Or it may have the opposite effect: it may turn your date on, which is exactly what your virgin ass didn't want to do. Either way, this is definitely something that shouldn't be discussed ever on a first date. Save it for when you two are in bed after you go dancing on your second date.
4. "Oh shit, I left my weed at home." Even if you did leave your weed at home, don't say anything because you'll come across as scatter-brained and ill-prepared. No one wants to date someone who's disorganized. If he/she asks you, "So do you have any weed?," and you left it at home, you should say, "No, I smoked it all when I was driving here." In doing so, you actually kill two birds with one stone: (1) you come across as very cool and (2) you can pretty much say whatever you want for the remainder of the date because he/she assumes you are baked.
3. "Come again." Once is enough on the first date. The last thing you want to do is give the other person unreasonably high expectations. Feign illness and leave immediately.
2. "So, do you want to see Quantum of Solace, Madagascar 2, or Zack and Miri Make a Porno?" Allowing options makes you come across as indecisive. Instead, I'd go with a simple, "Shhhhh. You might as well stop screaming. No one can hear you anyway." That really tells him or her that you are a go-getter with clear direction.
1. "I'm a lawyer." Eeewwwww. Note: this does not apply if you are not actually a lawyer.
1. "My ex is crazy."
2. "I would like to get married and have kids asap."
3. "Who are you voting for?"
4. "Can you pay the check? I'm broke."
5. "What's your favorite TV show?"
6. "Where did you go to school?"
7. "Can I take your picture?"
8. "I'm poly-(fill in the blank)"
9. "So I just got out of rehab."
10. "So ya wanna come back to my place?"
I found some to be fairly accurate and some to be pretty painfully obvious. Really, I shouldn't tell her I'm a polygamist or ask to take her picture? They might as well have put "I'm really into necrobestiality" on the list. But the more I thought about it, their list still left some other faux pas (I'll admit that I have no idea how to make that plural, so I'll just leave it as it is, since it ends in an "s") off that I think are worth mentioning. And it's not like anyone actually says, "So I just got out of rehab" on a first date, unless the date has gone so horribly and the person just wants an out. Personally, I prefer, "Shit, that's my wife calling. I should take this. She's been kind of a wreck since our little girl started chemo this morning."
Anyway, here are ten things you definitely should not say on a first date:
10. "Oh God! What's that on your face?!" There are two things wrong with this one. First, you should never bring up religion on a first date. Second, you shouldn't be looking him/her in the face until after you've bagged him/her. Always maintain an air of elusiveness and indifference until then.
9. "Care to dance?" For a guy, nothing throws out the gay vibe like asking a girl to dance. For a girl, pretty much every guy will assume you're a whore if you want to dance. And why the fuck is your first date at a discotheque anyway? Note: this is completely inapplicable to same-sex first dates, since those almost exclusively revolve around dancing.
8. "I hate rubbers." Of course you do. Everyone does. No need to state the obvious when you could be using that time to buy her another kamikaze.
7. "My ex is your mom." Under no circumstances should you be on a date with your daughter.
6. "Let me pick up the check." You might as well say, "Hi, I'm a giant asshole and I have more money than you. After I pay this, perhaps you can bow down to me, as I am so obviously your superior."
5. "I'm a virgin." This is as much of a turn-off as "Oooh, actually, I don't do anal." Or it may have the opposite effect: it may turn your date on, which is exactly what your virgin ass didn't want to do. Either way, this is definitely something that shouldn't be discussed ever on a first date. Save it for when you two are in bed after you go dancing on your second date.
4. "Oh shit, I left my weed at home." Even if you did leave your weed at home, don't say anything because you'll come across as scatter-brained and ill-prepared. No one wants to date someone who's disorganized. If he/she asks you, "So do you have any weed?," and you left it at home, you should say, "No, I smoked it all when I was driving here." In doing so, you actually kill two birds with one stone: (1) you come across as very cool and (2) you can pretty much say whatever you want for the remainder of the date because he/she assumes you are baked.
3. "Come again." Once is enough on the first date. The last thing you want to do is give the other person unreasonably high expectations. Feign illness and leave immediately.
2. "So, do you want to see Quantum of Solace, Madagascar 2, or Zack and Miri Make a Porno?" Allowing options makes you come across as indecisive. Instead, I'd go with a simple, "Shhhhh. You might as well stop screaming. No one can hear you anyway." That really tells him or her that you are a go-getter with clear direction.
1. "I'm a lawyer." Eeewwwww. Note: this does not apply if you are not actually a lawyer.
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Round 2 Update
November Rain ends Right Now's Cinderella run with a 64%-36% drubbing. Up next is Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard vs. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz.
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
14. Loser by Beck (1994) (64%)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991) (64%)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
14. Loser by Beck (1994) (64%)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
Monday, November 17, 2008
30 in 8 VII
This weekend was a typical Midwestern fall weekend. Jessie and I were blessed with three houseguests (none of them vagrants this time). John and Ari came up from Cincinnati, and Liz came over from Detroit.
Most of Sunday afternoon was spent lying on my couch, weeping, while watching the Bears get manhandled and eating what I hope was shrimp, and trying to figure out whether the images in my brain of the past 24 hours were real or part of dreams. Despite what Alex told me yesterday, I'm still not convinced that I didn't break a pint glass over something at some point Saturday night, and I'll be damned if I didn't find $500 after jumping onto the nextdoor neighbors' roof while being chased by a lion.
John and Ari brought their dog Frannie, who, over the course of the weekend, fell in love with the idea of spraying liquid feces all over our hardwood floors. This may have been due to the fact that, over the course of the weekend, Frannie managed to take from the counter and kitchen table the following: a three-foot baguette, the remaining fourth of a box of Milk Bones, and nearly all of a package of dog jerky. Bear in mind that this is all we know about.
More important than incontinent canines was the fact that this weekend was the seventh installment of the class Midwestern drinking game, 30 in 8. In case you're unfamiliar with the lore or rules of 30 in 8, click here for a refreshing perspective. And for those interested in purchasing this year's 30 in 8 gear, a t-shirt and jersey are available at the GMYH CafePress store for a limited time only.
As with last year's competition, this year's abomination took place at Gregerson's apartment. The contestants were as follows, by number of 30 in 8s:
Ashcraft (7th 30 in 8) - The only 30 in 8 founder at this year's event, his history with 30 in 8 is spotty, ranging from the record of pieces of animal flesh eaten (8) to an unfortunate incident involving Hamburger Helper and my front steps.
Me (5th 30 in 8) - First of all, I'd like to thank God for inventing MGD 64. Second of all, wait, did you see the size of that chicken?
Christoff (3rd 30 in 8) - Still bitter from the last twenty-eight years.
Gregerson (2nd 30 in 8) - The self-proclaimed favorite after last year's 29. He had hoped to reach 30 this year.
Dan Weeser* (2nd 30 in 8) - One of the Brothers Weeser*, minus Greg and Tim, of course.
Tim Weeser* (2nd 30 in 8) - One of the Brothers Weeser*, minus Greg and Dan, of course. Last year he ended up face down on Gregerson's hardwood hallway.
Alex (1st 30 in 8) - The amiable husband of the Anonymous Wife of Alex.
Adam (1st 30 in 8) - Though I had only hung out with him once or twice before, I pegged him as the favorite based on his size, beard, and relative stoicism. He is Beowulf to alcohol's Grendel.
Jeremy (1st 30 in 8) - A guy I have met several times, each of which I barely remember. Saturday would be no different. I know he has brown hair and a fiancé.
Jason (1st 30 in 8) - A fellow Hoosier fan who recently got married.
The Most Interesting Man in the World (1st 30 in 8) - A Venezuelan known to karaoke. Watch out for the goosebumps, my friends.
To prevent the possibility (or even the potential appearance) of cheating, we made a new rule this year: No one is allowed to take their beer with them into the bathroom.
As with every year, my strategy is to drink a beer every 20 minutes, and then, if I'm within what I feel is striking distance of the lead, I make a literally blinding run to try to catch up. This year, the beers seemed to be going down easier than usual, so I picked up my pace slightly.
Gregerson's grill had been destroyed earlier this year by Zephyrus, so grilling was not an option at this 30 in 8 (not that we would have grilled anyway, as the temperature was barely over 3 degrees Centigrade). When we ordered three pizzas from the pizza place across the street, they asked, "Are you guys on the second floor across the street?" We were. Seconds later a well-thrown Molotov cocktail burned that pizza place to the ground.
At 5:41 p.m. Central Standard Time, something unheard of happened. Adam finished his 30th beer. In case you glossed over that, I will repeat: Adam finished 30 beers in 5 hours and 41 minutes.
What I am told I witnessed Saturday afternoon was nothing short of religious. It wasn't just the fact that he finished 30 beers in less than SIX hours. It was the minimal effort he put forth to do so. The word demi-god isn't thrown out nearly enough when it comes to drinking prowess, but perhaps it should be. I later learned that Adam's fiancé was worried that he was going to make enemies by dominating 30 in 8. Amanda, he made no enemies. What he did make was a group of fervent followers who will go forth and preach the Gospel of Adam until their untimely alcohol-related deaths. And he's a hell of a dancer.
The unfortunate side effect of this display of brute force and breakneck pace was that Gregerson threw down 28 in 6 hours while trying his damnedest to keep up with Adam. Much like our attempted 6 steins of beer in 5 hours at Oktoberfest, certain bad things seem to happen to Gregerson when he enters into drinking contests with men of superior tolerance. There are certain pressures that you and I can't comprehend. I'm confident that, had there been a German infirmary nearby, Gregerson may have been diagnosed with Class 2 Intoxication. And those fucking krauts probably would have tried to steal his watch again.
Around six of the clock, he was visibly teetering and speaking what we later figured out was a hybrid of Old English and Basque. The weird thing is that we could all understand exactly what he was saying. Realizing that he had made some gross miscalculations, he decided it was time to take a nap. On the walk from the living room down his hallway to his bedroom, there was a tremendously loud thud. We gathered around Gregerson as he flailed around on his back, unable to get up, much like a turtle lying upside-down, only bleeding from the head and ears. Ashcraft took his wallet. Christoff videotaped it. No one thought to help him up until someone noted that the best thing for a concussion is to sleep it off, so we dragged him to his bed.
Needless to say, Adam took control of the vaunted Yellow Jersey, as no one has been more entitled to it. 
I assume Adam is a pretty big Judge Dredd fan because he spent much of the next two hours standing over Gregerson's lifeless body and repeatedly yelling "I am the law" while mockingly draping the Yellow Jersey on Gregerson.
He also thought it wise to drink Rumpleminze, as the 30 beers had evidently failed to bring with them the optimal level of intoxication. The fact that he is holding both Rumpleminze and the Chuggler at the same time should concern all of us.
With Gregerson down for the count, I saw an opportunity to secure second place, and I did with a personal record of 29. I didn't even vomit. Thanks MGD 64! In the future I'm going to suggest that we have two weight classes, with 200 pounds as the cut-off between the two.
Things kind of got away from us as day turned into night. A lot of times when a group of people each drink over 20 beers, they tend to do things that they don't normally do:
cursing, stabbing stacked empty pizza boxes with plastic knives to see if you can get all the way through to the Playboy underneath, meowing uncontrollably, and beating each other about the arms with lead pipes while the on-lookers circle around and sing "Alright, Alright (Here's My Fist Where's the Fight?)" by Sahara Hotnights. Seriously, I have no idea how I got this bruise on my arm, so that is the only plausible explanation.
For some reason, we decided that the night wouldn't be complete without playing some sort of rudimentary line-of-scrimmage game, whereby two of us would get down in three-point stances and try to knock each other over. I have no idea how this started or who thought it was a good idea, but thank you because it was.
But I don't want you to get the impression that all we were doing for eight hours involved physical feats of strength. We exercised the old noggins as well. Conversations over the course of the afternoon included: the pros and cons of Bob Rohrman's commercials vs. Max Madsen's commercials, the fact that I have never had a hangover after 30 in 8 because I usually puke my brains out then sleep for 12 hours, whether it was possible to stab a stack of three empty pizza boxes all the way through with a plastic knife and puncture the Playboy underneath, plans to start a Jewish bakery called Lemme Challah At Ya, the improper underuse of serial commas and the subtleties of irony.
Here are this year's final standings, as reported to me this afternoon by Gregerson:
1. Adam - 30+
2. Me - 29
3. Gregerson - 28
4. Jason - 26
5 (tie). Dan Weeser* - 24
5 (tie). Christoff - 24
5 (tie). The Most Interesting Man in the World - 24. He showed up at 3:41 and proceeded to bong all of his beers out of the Chuggler over the course of the next four hours and nineteen minutes. It was impressive. No wonder he has a sandwich named after him on every continent.
8. Alex - 22
9. Ashcraft - 21
10. Jeremy - 9. This doesn't seem right.
11. Tim Weeser* - 1.67 Sprites. Apparently having to work on Saturday night means that you're not allowed to try to drink 30 beers in 8 hours. I believe the word you're looking for is twat.
Meanwhile, at my place, Jessie was having a female-only version called 15 in 8, which the ladies started at 4 (instead of noon) and were doing it with wine instead of beer. I generally don't trust women, which is why I wasn't surprised to find out that they were not steadfastly attempting to drink 15 glasses of wine in 8 hours. Rather, they were just going to down as many bottles of wine among them in 4 hours. There were about 15 ladies there, and they took down about 25-30 bottles of wine in 4 hours (the exact count will never be known, due to the inconsistent disposing of empty bottles). And they were doing Rip It bombs. And then they were going to meet all the guys (who were still standing) at Rocks after 30 in 8. Nothing could have gone wrong with this plan.
No one at Gregersons seemed to think it was a bad idea to leave him there alone to die, so we all headed out to Rocks to meet the ladies. The Most Interesting Man in the World's strategy of bonging 24 beers in four hours must have backfired, as he made a beeline for the nearest cab as soon as we got outside. The rest of us somersaulted to Rocks, as far as I know.
When we got to Rocks, the shit show continued. I can't imagine what it must have looked like when 25 seemingly normal men and women stumbled into the bar at 9 that plastered. And I mean it. I literally can't imagine it because alcohol has taken that function from me. Before I had a chance to get my wits about me, Dan Weeser* and Christoff ordered us some Old Fashioneds, because whiskey and muddled fruit seemed like the best way to take the edge off after a case of beer. I had the hiccups on four different occasions, but the madness didn't end there. The Anonymous Wife of Alex puked on the table and under the table. Tracey tackled my wife. Melissa puked out of the window of her cab on the ride home. Tracey had to hold her head out of the window on her cab ride home to prevent herself from puking. We were a giant wreck. I have no idea how we weren't collectively kicked out.
Around 2, we decided to leave Rocks, which kind of sucks because I was hoping to get a full 15 hours of drinking in. John and I headed back to my apartment to walk our respective dogs, while Jessie, Ari, and Liz walked to LaBamba. I requested an order of super steak nachos, which I devoured upon their arrival. I'm pretty sure I got food poisoning because that's the only reason to explain why I was regurgitating (all of) the aforementioned nachos around 9:30 Sunday morning. (Ball, you know what I'm talking about.) It's now clear to me that I don't chew very thoroughly.
More important than incontinent canines was the fact that this weekend was the seventh installment of the class Midwestern drinking game, 30 in 8. In case you're unfamiliar with the lore or rules of 30 in 8, click here for a refreshing perspective. And for those interested in purchasing this year's 30 in 8 gear, a t-shirt and jersey are available at the GMYH CafePress store for a limited time only.
As with last year's competition, this year's abomination took place at Gregerson's apartment. The contestants were as follows, by number of 30 in 8s:
Ashcraft (7th 30 in 8) - The only 30 in 8 founder at this year's event, his history with 30 in 8 is spotty, ranging from the record of pieces of animal flesh eaten (8) to an unfortunate incident involving Hamburger Helper and my front steps.
Me (5th 30 in 8) - First of all, I'd like to thank God for inventing MGD 64. Second of all, wait, did you see the size of that chicken?
Christoff (3rd 30 in 8) - Still bitter from the last twenty-eight years.
Gregerson (2nd 30 in 8) - The self-proclaimed favorite after last year's 29. He had hoped to reach 30 this year.
Dan Weeser* (2nd 30 in 8) - One of the Brothers Weeser*, minus Greg and Tim, of course.
Tim Weeser* (2nd 30 in 8) - One of the Brothers Weeser*, minus Greg and Dan, of course. Last year he ended up face down on Gregerson's hardwood hallway.
Alex (1st 30 in 8) - The amiable husband of the Anonymous Wife of Alex.
Adam (1st 30 in 8) - Though I had only hung out with him once or twice before, I pegged him as the favorite based on his size, beard, and relative stoicism. He is Beowulf to alcohol's Grendel.
Jeremy (1st 30 in 8) - A guy I have met several times, each of which I barely remember. Saturday would be no different. I know he has brown hair and a fiancé.
Jason (1st 30 in 8) - A fellow Hoosier fan who recently got married.
The Most Interesting Man in the World (1st 30 in 8) - A Venezuelan known to karaoke. Watch out for the goosebumps, my friends.
To prevent the possibility (or even the potential appearance) of cheating, we made a new rule this year: No one is allowed to take their beer with them into the bathroom.
As with every year, my strategy is to drink a beer every 20 minutes, and then, if I'm within what I feel is striking distance of the lead, I make a literally blinding run to try to catch up. This year, the beers seemed to be going down easier than usual, so I picked up my pace slightly.
Gregerson's grill had been destroyed earlier this year by Zephyrus, so grilling was not an option at this 30 in 8 (not that we would have grilled anyway, as the temperature was barely over 3 degrees Centigrade). When we ordered three pizzas from the pizza place across the street, they asked, "Are you guys on the second floor across the street?" We were. Seconds later a well-thrown Molotov cocktail burned that pizza place to the ground.
At 5:41 p.m. Central Standard Time, something unheard of happened. Adam finished his 30th beer. In case you glossed over that, I will repeat: Adam finished 30 beers in 5 hours and 41 minutes.
What I am told I witnessed Saturday afternoon was nothing short of religious. It wasn't just the fact that he finished 30 beers in less than SIX hours. It was the minimal effort he put forth to do so. The word demi-god isn't thrown out nearly enough when it comes to drinking prowess, but perhaps it should be. I later learned that Adam's fiancé was worried that he was going to make enemies by dominating 30 in 8. Amanda, he made no enemies. What he did make was a group of fervent followers who will go forth and preach the Gospel of Adam until their untimely alcohol-related deaths. And he's a hell of a dancer.The unfortunate side effect of this display of brute force and breakneck pace was that Gregerson threw down 28 in 6 hours while trying his damnedest to keep up with Adam. Much like our attempted 6 steins of beer in 5 hours at Oktoberfest, certain bad things seem to happen to Gregerson when he enters into drinking contests with men of superior tolerance. There are certain pressures that you and I can't comprehend. I'm confident that, had there been a German infirmary nearby, Gregerson may have been diagnosed with Class 2 Intoxication. And those fucking krauts probably would have tried to steal his watch again.Around six of the clock, he was visibly teetering and speaking what we later figured out was a hybrid of Old English and Basque. The weird thing is that we could all understand exactly what he was saying. Realizing that he had made some gross miscalculations, he decided it was time to take a nap. On the walk from the living room down his hallway to his bedroom, there was a tremendously loud thud. We gathered around Gregerson as he flailed around on his back, unable to get up, much like a turtle lying upside-down, only bleeding from the head and ears. Ashcraft took his wallet. Christoff videotaped it. No one thought to help him up until someone noted that the best thing for a concussion is to sleep it off, so we dragged him to his bed.
Needless to say, Adam took control of the vaunted Yellow Jersey, as no one has been more entitled to it. I assume Adam is a pretty big Judge Dredd fan because he spent much of the next two hours standing over Gregerson's lifeless body and repeatedly yelling "I am the law" while mockingly draping the Yellow Jersey on Gregerson.He also thought it wise to drink Rumpleminze, as the 30 beers had evidently failed to bring with them the optimal level of intoxication. The fact that he is holding both Rumpleminze and the Chuggler at the same time should concern all of us.With Gregerson down for the count, I saw an opportunity to secure second place, and I did with a personal record of 29. I didn't even vomit. Thanks MGD 64! In the future I'm going to suggest that we have two weight classes, with 200 pounds as the cut-off between the two.Things kind of got away from us as day turned into night. A lot of times when a group of people each drink over 20 beers, they tend to do things that they don't normally do:
cursing, stabbing stacked empty pizza boxes with plastic knives to see if you can get all the way through to the Playboy underneath, meowing uncontrollably, and beating each other about the arms with lead pipes while the on-lookers circle around and sing "Alright, Alright (Here's My Fist Where's the Fight?)" by Sahara Hotnights. Seriously, I have no idea how I got this bruise on my arm, so that is the only plausible explanation.For some reason, we decided that the night wouldn't be complete without playing some sort of rudimentary line-of-scrimmage game, whereby two of us would get down in three-point stances and try to knock each other over. I have no idea how this started or who thought it was a good idea, but thank you because it was.
But I don't want you to get the impression that all we were doing for eight hours involved physical feats of strength. We exercised the old noggins as well. Conversations over the course of the afternoon included: the pros and cons of Bob Rohrman's commercials vs. Max Madsen's commercials, the fact that I have never had a hangover after 30 in 8 because I usually puke my brains out then sleep for 12 hours, whether it was possible to stab a stack of three empty pizza boxes all the way through with a plastic knife and puncture the Playboy underneath, plans to start a Jewish bakery called Lemme Challah At Ya, the improper underuse of serial commas and the subtleties of irony.
Here are this year's final standings, as reported to me this afternoon by Gregerson:
1. Adam - 30+
2. Me - 29
3. Gregerson - 28
4. Jason - 26
5 (tie). Dan Weeser* - 24
5 (tie). Christoff - 24
5 (tie). The Most Interesting Man in the World - 24. He showed up at 3:41 and proceeded to bong all of his beers out of the Chuggler over the course of the next four hours and nineteen minutes. It was impressive. No wonder he has a sandwich named after him on every continent.
8. Alex - 22
9. Ashcraft - 21
10. Jeremy - 9. This doesn't seem right.
11. Tim Weeser* - 1.67 Sprites. Apparently having to work on Saturday night means that you're not allowed to try to drink 30 beers in 8 hours. I believe the word you're looking for is twat.
Meanwhile, at my place, Jessie was having a female-only version called 15 in 8, which the ladies started at 4 (instead of noon) and were doing it with wine instead of beer. I generally don't trust women, which is why I wasn't surprised to find out that they were not steadfastly attempting to drink 15 glasses of wine in 8 hours. Rather, they were just going to down as many bottles of wine among them in 4 hours. There were about 15 ladies there, and they took down about 25-30 bottles of wine in 4 hours (the exact count will never be known, due to the inconsistent disposing of empty bottles). And they were doing Rip It bombs. And then they were going to meet all the guys (who were still standing) at Rocks after 30 in 8. Nothing could have gone wrong with this plan.
No one at Gregersons seemed to think it was a bad idea to leave him there alone to die, so we all headed out to Rocks to meet the ladies. The Most Interesting Man in the World's strategy of bonging 24 beers in four hours must have backfired, as he made a beeline for the nearest cab as soon as we got outside. The rest of us somersaulted to Rocks, as far as I know.
When we got to Rocks, the shit show continued. I can't imagine what it must have looked like when 25 seemingly normal men and women stumbled into the bar at 9 that plastered. And I mean it. I literally can't imagine it because alcohol has taken that function from me. Before I had a chance to get my wits about me, Dan Weeser* and Christoff ordered us some Old Fashioneds, because whiskey and muddled fruit seemed like the best way to take the edge off after a case of beer. I had the hiccups on four different occasions, but the madness didn't end there. The Anonymous Wife of Alex puked on the table and under the table. Tracey tackled my wife. Melissa puked out of the window of her cab on the ride home. Tracey had to hold her head out of the window on her cab ride home to prevent herself from puking. We were a giant wreck. I have no idea how we weren't collectively kicked out.
Around 2, we decided to leave Rocks, which kind of sucks because I was hoping to get a full 15 hours of drinking in. John and I headed back to my apartment to walk our respective dogs, while Jessie, Ari, and Liz walked to LaBamba. I requested an order of super steak nachos, which I devoured upon their arrival. I'm pretty sure I got food poisoning because that's the only reason to explain why I was regurgitating (all of) the aforementioned nachos around 9:30 Sunday morning. (Ball, you know what I'm talking about.) It's now clear to me that I don't chew very thoroughly.
Most of Sunday afternoon was spent lying on my couch, weeping, while watching the Bears get manhandled and eating what I hope was shrimp, and trying to figure out whether the images in my brain of the past 24 hours were real or part of dreams. Despite what Alex told me yesterday, I'm still not convinced that I didn't break a pint glass over something at some point Saturday night, and I'll be damned if I didn't find $500 after jumping onto the nextdoor neighbors' roof while being chased by a lion.
Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation Round 2 Update
Here I Go Again by Whitesnake holds off Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses by a slim 54%-46% margin. Up next is another GNR song, November Rain, vs. the first round Cinderella, Right Now by Van Halen.
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
14. Loser by Beck (1994) (64%)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
For Round 1 results, click here.
For details on the countdown to the Best Hard Rock Anthem of Our Generation, click here.)
1. Enter Sandman by Metallica (1991) (64%)
17. Longview by Green Day (1994)
8. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake (1987) (54%)
9. Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses (1987)
5. November Rain by Guns N' Roses (1991)
21. Right Now by Van Halen (1991)
4. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (1987)
13. Are You Gonna Go My Way? By Lenny Kravitz (1993)
3. Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (1986)
14. Loser by Beck (1994) (64%)
6. Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (1987)
11. Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (1992)
7. Even Flow by Pearl Jam (1991)
10. Mother by Danzig (1993)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana (1991)
15. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (1992)
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Hold Steady As She Goes
I don't know if you know this about me, but I like music, especially listening to it. To further that interest, I purchased tickets that allowed me to listen to live music played by country rockers Drive-By Truckers and the greatest bar band in the world, The Hold Steady, at The Riviera Theatre. They have joined forces for a shared-bill tour known as the Rock and Roll Means Well Tour. Also joining me were Jesterio the Magnificent, Bohmann (without his monkey), and Chenandler Bong.
We were able to stake out a spot about 10 feet from the stage along the left wall. This position was excellent in that it both allowed us to be very close to the stage and very close to a beer stand. It also allowed us to permanently damage our ear drums. Does anyone else hear those locusts?
I had seen Drive-By Truckers several years ago at Lollapalooza, but to be honest I didn't remember much from their show, other than the fact that the lead singer was bearded. They put on a pretty good show, although admittedly I was there for The Hold Steady. I kid you not when I say that they put on one of the best live shows around. They played a solid mix of songs from all four of their albums. Here are some shots.
The highlight of the show came with the encore when Drive-By Truckers joined The Hold Steady for a good old-fashioned jamboree. In the two hours since Drive-By Truckers had left the stage, it was pretty clear that lead singer Patterson Hood made quick work of the bottle of Jack that they had with them on stage during their set. But no matter. In addition to a couple Hold Steady songs and a Drive-By Truckers song, they collaborated on two solid covers: Blue Öyster Cult's "Burnin' For You" and AC/DC's "Ride On."
All in all, an excellent show. I highly suggest checking them out when they come to a city near you.
Come tomorrow, there will be a recap of what I can piece together of the remainder of the weekend, which may or may not have involved a contest, the purpose of which was to drink 30 beers in 8 hours.
We were able to stake out a spot about 10 feet from the stage along the left wall. This position was excellent in that it both allowed us to be very close to the stage and very close to a beer stand. It also allowed us to permanently damage our ear drums. Does anyone else hear those locusts?
I had seen Drive-By Truckers several years ago at Lollapalooza, but to be honest I didn't remember much from their show, other than the fact that the lead singer was bearded. They put on a pretty good show, although admittedly I was there for The Hold Steady. I kid you not when I say that they put on one of the best live shows around. They played a solid mix of songs from all four of their albums. Here are some shots.
The highlight of the show came with the encore when Drive-By Truckers joined The Hold Steady for a good old-fashioned jamboree. In the two hours since Drive-By Truckers had left the stage, it was pretty clear that lead singer Patterson Hood made quick work of the bottle of Jack that they had with them on stage during their set. But no matter. In addition to a couple Hold Steady songs and a Drive-By Truckers song, they collaborated on two solid covers: Blue Öyster Cult's "Burnin' For You" and AC/DC's "Ride On."All in all, an excellent show. I highly suggest checking them out when they come to a city near you.
Come tomorrow, there will be a recap of what I can piece together of the remainder of the weekend, which may or may not have involved a contest, the purpose of which was to drink 30 beers in 8 hours.
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