AD, KC, MNF, and DBs

Kudos to Fox for bringing back Arrested Development, which premiered last night. I always had a feeling that when Richie Cunningham and the Fonz reunited, all they would need is a hot lesbian, the star of Teen Wolf Too, the Ropers' stuffy landlord from "The Ropers," and David Cross, and they would have TV gold.


I also watched the series premier of Kitchen Confidential, starring, among others, that dick weed Zack from Wedding Crashers, as well as John Cho (best known for his role as Harold in "Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle" or the guy who says "MILF" in "American Pie," but he was also in "Off Centre," a pretty funny show that failed because it was on the WB and no one knew about it). It looks like Cho's character will be written out after a couple episodes, though. I guess Kitchen Confidential is directed by Fred Savage. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but the show has the potential to turn everything you've ever thought about the kitchen in an upscale restaurant upside down. It will sufficiently fill the void between Arrested Development and Monday Night Football.

Speaking of which, the Eastern time zone sucks. Never do I feel the crunch as painfully as on Monday nights in the fall when Monday Night Football doesn't start until 9, which means that the game will almost always end after midnight. This sucks mainly because I have turned the TV off and gone to bed several times when one team is comfortably ahead (99% of the time, it's the team I picked to win in my NFL pick 'em league), only to learn the next morning of a monumental comeback. Last night was such an occasion. I went to bed when Dallas was up 13-0, thinking that I was about to win the week in the pick 'em league. Sure enough, I flip on SportsCenter as I sit down to what would normally be an enjoyable bowl of Cinnamon Life, only to find out that the Redskins came back to win 14-13. I threw up everywhere.

What's with Cleveland Indians fans being big bags of douche? I am a White Sox fan, but I'm not an in-your-face, storm-the-field-to-beat-up-an-opposing-coach White Sox fan. I don't talk too much smack. After all, when you're a Chicago baseball fan, you grow to realize that failure is inevitable. Cautious optimism is a way of life. Therefore, I don't talk shit. Not even when the Sox had a 15-game lead. All along, I've said that I'll believe the Sox are World-Series-worthy when they get to the World Series. It's not that I don't root hard for them every day. It's just that I know better. Cleveland fans, on the other hand, can't help but inhale cock when it comes to this kind of stuff. I guess I'd be pissed too if I was from a city where I lived in constant fear of the fucking river catching fire. Apparently hate mail is the Indians' fans' weapon of choice. First I get an email from Goni talking about how Ozzie Guillen is "an asshole" and how Goni knew all along that the Sox would collapse. Obviously. And now the Indians fans in my office are starting to come out of the woodwork. Some guy emails me (copying the few other Indians fans in the office) to say "Go Tribe" and talking about how the Indians are going to sweep the Sox. Then he comes to my office a couple hours later, but I was on the phone. So after I get off the phone, I buzz him (thinking he was stopping by for something work-related), and he says he was only stopping by to "razz" me about the Indians/Sox series. Until yesterday, this ass clown had never once given me any indication whatsoever that he was an Indians fan. And of course this morning, I get a "one down and two to go" email from another Indians fan in the office. So God, if you're reading this (and I can only assume you are, on account of the omnipotence), please punish these Indians fans for their foolhardiness by preventing the Indians from winning the AL Central.

Fantasy Update:
-Corn Hole'ers (Angry Pirates): 0-2 (T 6th)
-FIC You (Car Ramrod): 1-1 (T 3rd)
-Glenview Gridiron (Angry Pirates): 1-0 (T 1st)
-League of Extraordinary Gents (Angry Pirates): 1-1 (T 3rd)
-Pigskin 2005 Pick 'Em (Angry Pirates): 2nd overall (out of 16), 2nd for the week (damn Cowboys)

3 Down, 8 to Go

This'll be a long one...

I'm back from Bloomington, feeling more alive than ever before. The Hoosiers laid a beating on Kentucky, to the tune of 38-14. 3-0 and IU haven't been in the same sentence since 1994. I know you're all wondering, so I'll lay it down for you: IU hasn't been 4-0 since 1990, and no coach has started his career at IU 4-0. Blake "Danger" Powers now has 11 TD passes. With 3 more, he will surpass Matt "Huh?" LoVecchio's total from last year, and with 7 more TD passes, Powers will surpass IU's combined total for the past 2 years and will break IU's single season record for TD passes.

Since it was a 5:45pm start, I just went over to B-town on Saturday morning. I arrived at approximately 10:20am, with the smell of freshly cut limestone still in the air. Morgan "Crazy Legs" Hirst joined me about a half hour later, and then it was off to the rolling hills and jean mini-skirts of the tailgating fields. We set up shop under a cluster of a couple trees, hence shielding us from the harsh, undiscriminating rays of the sun. Between the hours of 11 and 5:45, at least 4 of the following things happened: drinking, grilling, football throwing, lots of sitting, and everyone totally got laid. If you haven't been to an early fall tailgate in Bloomington, you should make an effort to do so. The only slight downside was the line for the port-a-potties (which all have coat hooks on the inside--if I'm ever at a point in my life where I need to use the coat hook in a tailgate port-a-potty, something has gone horribly wrong). I did see Jeff "Struve" Strauss in line at the shitters, so that was fun. He looks healthy and full of life.

Andy "Spawn" Southard showed up about 45 minutes before kick-off, along with a handle of Captain, a 2-liter of Diet Coke, and Mike Estridge, who I've always felt resembles a white Pedro Martinez. Interestingly, Estridge used to use my ID to get into bars. I'm not sure how to take that. Tommy "Gun" McClelland also stopped by the tailgate long enough to buy my extra ticket (and not use it).

Morgan and I joined Bruce "Bruiser" LeMar at the game. As the sun set on Memorial Stadium, Assembly Hall was lit up, as if God was trying to give everyone on the West side of the stadium a subtle hint as to which sport these two schools should really be playing. On this day, the big man was at least half right. Kentucky's offense was about as beautiful and reliable as a Dodge Shadow. Aside from one fluke 79-yard pass where the IU defender fell down, IU held Kentucky under 140 total yards. While I'm not exactly sure how a team that gives up 409 rushing yards to a 1-AA team one week can hold an SEC team to 77 rushing yards the next week, I'll take it. Two idiots wearing blue were sitting next to us (one of which looked like Garcia from "Reno 911"). Luckily there was never a point in the game where I felt the need to openly taunt them. There were no Ashley Judd sightings.

The rest of the night can only be described as a series of good decisions. After the game, we went back to the hotel and I took the fastest shower I've taken since my 36-second masterpiece on February 8, 1989. Then Bruiser, Crazy Legs, and I went to Nick's for some dinner and drinking. The first good decision was to order a pitcher of Bass, which was the heaviest and most alcoholic beer on tap. After a pitcher, Bruiser retired. The next great decision came after Spawn and Estridge arrived, when we start playing Sink the Bismark. Despite my pleas and my contention that playing Sink would get me drunker than an Irishman on [insert any day here], the other 3 ordered that I play. There was a point in the game where I looked at the 2 full pitchers sitting on our table and I realized that I needed to play Sink like I've never played before in order to avoid puking. I managed to salvage some brain cells, although by the time Sink ended, I was drunk enough to go up to the guy at the table next to us that went to Purdue and tell him "good luck with your degree" as I walked out. What an idiot, but then again he did graduate from the state of Indiana's closest equivalent to ITT Tech.

Morgan went back to the hotel after Nick's, since he had to wake up around 6:30 to drive up to go to the Bears game (and tailgate beforehand). Spawn, Estridge, and I then went to a cheerleading party (Spawn and Estridge used to be cheerleaders at IU--yes, they're both straight) a few blocks south of campus, where I nursed a beer while watching Spawn and Estridge get their asses kicked at beer pong. There was some dude there straight-up chain smoking who I tried my damnedest to convince to quit smoking and play semi-pro football in Northwest Indiana. The impact I made on his life will be immeasurable.

The best decision of the night was to go to LaBamba for burritos as big as our respective heads. So we head out of the cheerleading party. It was at this point that Spawn went all Admiral Stockdale on us. First, he inexplicably starts running away from Estridge and me, taking turns down streets that were not on our way to Bambas. While I didn't want to, I once again had to drunkenly showcase my dazzling foot speed. I chased Spawn into a dark back yard, where he was cornered in some thick brush. I was confused as to how or why it had gotten to this point, but I asked him to kindly join us back in reality, mentioning that the homeowner will likely call the cops when he/she sees the two of us hanging out behind his/her tool shed. I felt like Tommy Lee Jones in The Fugitive, except my fugitive was acting more like Margot Kidder than a one-armed doctor. I gave up and went back to the main road, and a couple minutes (and blocks) later, Spawn rejoined us.

We happened to walk through the back parking lot of Acacia, who was obviously having a party. A group of girls walked out, followed by some guy who was hammered and yelling at his girlfriend (who was in the group). Several guys, including Spawn and Estridge, held the guy back, since it looked like he was about become the Jackson Brown to her Darryl Hannah. She left, and a few seconds later, the dude punches in a car window. I scream, "Oh my God, I'm calling 911." Some sober Acacian (although he was probably stoned), who I assume was a pledge, starts freaking out and asking me not to call 911. I of course look at him and say, "This is something the cops need to know about," and then I start walking away and pretend to dial 911. I start speaking very loudly into the phone, "You need to send someone to Acacia's parking lot right away. Some guy just almost beat up his girlfriend and then he punched out a car window. I think they're having a party and everyone is drunk. I think there are some underage kids drinking too." At this point, the pledge is really freaking out, gathering everyone in the parking lot to go inside before the cops come. I just laughed and kept on walking toward Bambas with my phone to my ear. Later in the night I would leave a flaming bag of poop on their porch.

At Bambas, rather than wait in the 10-person line, Spawn tries to just go straight to the cash register and order from there. The morbidly obese man working the cash register explained that there was a line, and that he didn't take orders anyway, but just worked the register. I told Spawn I would get him whatever he wanted, but he foolishly decided against anything, and went to the table by the door and sulked. Estridge and I enjoyed our burritos outside (so as to prevent any possible incidents between Spawn and the fat man), and Spawn just kind of stood there watching us. While his mouth didn't speak, his eyes said "man I fucked up." We then trudged back to the hotel, and by the time I woke up the next morning, no one else was in the room.

On the drive back to Sunny D, I got to listen to the Bears drop 31 on the Lions in the first half, the most first-half points for the Bears since a certain team did it in a certain year on their way to a certain game that they won 46-10. With a 1-1 record, the Bears are now atop the NFC Norris, holding the tiebreaker over the 1-1 Lions. With the way the 4 teams in the division have played the first 2 weeks, it's a distinct possibility that a 7-9 record will win the division.

Once I got back to D-town, Jessie and I spent the afternoon watching Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles on AMC, and then getting a betta, which we named Todd after the creepy gay son in Wedding Crashers. It made sense at the time.

White Sox Magic Number: 11 (a shaky 11, but 11 nonetheless)

Ding!

I just signed my first four ding letters. I say "sign" because I didn't write them. They were just form letters handed to me for my signature, and they weren't more than 4 sentences. I've officially become everything I've always hated. God, I've never felt so alive.

QBs and OCs

Fridays are great, aren't they? Especially in my office, where every Friday is Hair Band Friday. You laugh, but are you rocking out in your office to Gorky Park's "Bang" right this second? Unlikely, but you wish you were. The booze, coke, and groupies are just an added bonus. I'm really pleased with the stripper pole I recently added. It helps some of the ladies come out of their shell a little. That and the coke. On another note, I bet the Scorpions are never asked to perform at any Hurricane Katrina benefit concerts. Just in case.

Now to The OC. Last night's episode was naughty, intriguing, and downright angering at times. I walked away from it with a better sense of self and, at the same time, the feeling that I had no idea who I am. Best part of the episode: Seth gives his mom (who is in rehab) a copy of what I can only assume no one in rehab should ever read, Motley Crue's biography, "Dirt." ("Would you look at this? Nikki Sixx OD'd on heroin, died, and came back to life. Maybe this vodka isn't so bad after all.")

Man, Dean Hess (that new dean at Harbor) is probably the most immediately disagreeable character in television history. What an asshole. If you took a 6-foot tall penis and dressed it up with a blond wig and a pastel vest, you'd have this guy. Did you see the way he grabbed Marissa at the Kick-Off Carnival? If Harbor was a public school, that mofo would have been fired on the spot and had a lawsuit filed against him the next morning. Yet another reason not to send your kids to private school.

And what the hell is Charlotte (Jeri Ryan) trying to pull on Kirsten? Her cabins in the woods, shifty eyes, and whiskey breath will not be tolerated much longer, unless of course her goal is to make out with Kirsten. Sadly, I don't think that's in the cards, since they already had a lesbian subplot last year. At best, she'll request some three-way lovin' with the Cohens (after all, she must have learned a thing or two in those Paris sex clubs). Sandy will be turned off at first, but he'll come around when he realizes that he gets to bang 2 drunk chicks at once. Kirsten will be so soused she won't even know what's hittin' her (and I mean "hittin'" in the gangsta sense of the word). My guess is that Charlotte is Oliver's mom, and at some point, she's going to start smacking herself in the head while holding Kirsten for ransom at gun-point.

The big revelation next week is going to be who gets Caleb Nichol's phatty estate. Will it be the deserving, yet alcoholic, daughter, Kirsten, or will it go to Caleb's whore wife/ex-wife, Julie Cooper-Nichol and her ex-husband/future husband, Jimmy "I just can't stop losing other people's money" Cooper? My guess is that it goes to Caleb's almost-forgotten daughter Lindsay (played by Shannon Lucio, who also starred in the made-for-TV phenomenon, "Spring Break Shark Attack"). Either that, or it will go to Seth. I can't seriously foresee Julie getting anything, except nailed by that creepy dude who used to own the rights to her stag flick.

I didn't get to see Reunion last night because our fearless leader had to talk about the clusterfuck in Louisiana. At least Halliburton is getting a nice fat government contract out of the deal (http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/chi-0509150092sep15,1,3603154.story).

Also, former NFL punching bag Gary Hogeboom is on Survivor: Guatemala. What's next, Jack Trudeau on Fear Factor? Steve Grogan and Tony Eason teaming up against Tommy Kramer and Wade Wilson for a fantastically non-prolific Amazing Race? A likely overweight Bobby Hebert trying desperately to get back to his playing weight on Celebrity Fit Club? Vince Ferragamo getting flabbergasted at his temporary wife's idiosyncracies on Trading Spouses? Billy Joe Tolliver finally getting that makeover and reconstructive surgery he's always needed on The Swan? Steve Bartkowsi fighting to accept his station in life as an indentured servant on PBS's Colonial House? Neil Lomax starring in his own extremely short-lived reality show, Being Neil Lomax? Eric Hipple wreaking havoc on So You Think You Can Dance (note in Hipple's picture, he appears to either be biting his nails or smoking a joint, neither of which should be done on an NFL sideline)?

Saving the Best for Last

Well, the weekend is almost upon us, and as usual, I need it like nobody's business. What is it about working 11- and 12-hour days that makes me want to drink and sleep to excess? My guess is the 11 or 12 hours of working.

I'm once again heading to B-town this weekend, where I will be joined by Morgan "Crazy Legs" Hirst, Bruce "Bruiser" LeMar, and hopefully some other peeps. The IU/Kentucky game does not start until 5:45pm (Central), which means that even more tailgating than last week is a certainty. Man I love these late starts. Lord knows we need as much drinking time as possible before watching an IU football game. The game is a rare live broadcast on ESPN Classic. Maybe they thought it was an old basketball game. I don't know what to think about this Hoosier squad, but this game could be the most important one of the season. Win it, and we're 3-0 with confidence and momentum (and a losing Big Ten record away from a bowl). Lose it, and we're the Indiana Hoosier football team. What I think is funny is that collegefootballnews.com predicts that IU will lose, just one week after predicting that IU would beat Nicholls State 58-0. I guess that'll happen after a 35-31 win over a 1-AA team from Louisiana with no time to prepare or practice, wearing uniforms from an early '80s fictional high school (if confused, see Hardest Button post below), who had to walk from Louisiana to Bloomington carrying all of their equipment.

There's a hilarious (yet seemingly unknown) new show on F/X that all of you should see. It's called "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"
(http://www.fxnetworks.com/shows/originals/sunny/main.html). It's on Tuesdays at 11pm Eastern (check local listings), although there are no new episodes this season (there were only 7 total--hopefully it gets picked up for a 2nd season). The show is funnier than a nun puking (if you don't think that's funny, then you obviously haven't seen a nun puke). The mains characters own and run a bar in Philly. Hijinx ensues, such as allowing high school kids to drink in the bar and then getting asked to prom, or attending abortion rallies to get women. In the latest episode (the season finale), none other than Dennis "Richard 'Richie' Belding" Haskins makes an appearance as a grade school gym teacher accused of child molestation. Things have not gone well for Mr. Belding since he left Bayside. He either ate that biker chick Tori (that is the only explanation for her sudden appearance and disappearance from Bayside), or he has simply gone into a severe depression plagued by constant overeating, brought on by his realization that his younger brother is so much cooler than he is. Whatever it is, he's about 100 pounds heavier than when you last saw him at Zack and Kelly's wedding in Vegas eleven years ago.

Another excellent series is NBC's "Most Outrageous [TV, Live TV, Game Show] Moments," which they have been showing a lot of lately. Bloopers, faux pas, double entendres, sports blunders, screwed-up lines, accidental swearing on live TV, and British newscasters getting bit by animals. That, my friends, is the definition of quality television.

CBS, on the other hand, showed a Billy Graham concert from 8-9pm last night. At first I thought it might be a fund raiser for Hurricane Katrina's aftermath. No, no--it was your basic send-me-money-so-that-you-can-find-Jesus televangelist propaganda concert, constantly showing Graham's website so that you too can find Jesus by giving money to Billy Graham. That annoyed me more than fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt. I didn't realize CBS was run by retards (er, I mean specially educated people). Networks should not be showing some codger whoring Jesus to bilk money from old people scared they're not going to heaven. Especially on primetime. Even Big Brother 6 is a better choice. Hell, I would even rather watch Yes, Dear or Still Standing. Seriously.

Another new OC tonight. Needless to say, I'm happier than someone who just saw a nun puke. On a conclusory note, here is a nice picture sent to me by Nick Smith (a co-worker, not that bird-headed freak who played basketball at Illinois), for the enjoyment of 90% of you males and 10% of you females.

Leaving Work Rules

It really does. And you know what else rules? The Juice. Hell of a back. Slashing, really. Ah-thank you.

The Hardest Button to Button

Well, I'm back from my weekend in South Central Indiana. Good times all around, as expected. Greg "Roamin'" Bohmann joined Jester and I for the whole weekend. I can only assume that he had a better time than Marv Alberts at a back-biting party (too soon?).

Friday night was the White Stripes concert in Indy at the Murat Theater (see picture to the right--yeah, I know it sucks, but it's a picture phone). Our seats were 16th row, center, which was awesome considering that the Murat is pretty small. The show was excellent, proving once again that the White Stripes are the greatest rock & roll band on the face of the Earth. Yes Christoff, even better than Air Supply. Meg White, while normally an average looking girl, is somehow extremely sexy on stage while bouncing up and down and pounding the drums. There's just something about her. Jack White, Meg's ex-husband, was looking as creepy as ever, sporting a pencil-thin mustache, some chin scruff, and skin paler than Michael Jackson's. He was, however, a master on the guitar, piano, and marimbas. They played a great set, with multiple songs from every one of their 5 albums. Highlights included a creepy cover of Dolly Parton's "Jolene," a fantastic, strobe-light-filled version of "Seven Nation Army," a Jack-solo-on-the-piano version of what I think will be a great late-night bar sing-along, "I'm Lonely, But I Ain't That Lonely Yet," and their finale, which was a house-rockin' cover of Leadbelly's "Da Ballit of de Boll Weevil."

After the show, it was off to the Mecca of all that is good and right in the world: Bloomington. Friday night was rather low key. Jester stayed in, and Greg and I went to Nick's (i.e., the greatest bar in the world) and Upstairs (i.e., the sweatiest bar in the world) for a couple drinks.

Saturday was the train wreck known as the IU/Nicholls State football game. Before I get to that, we must discuss tailgating. 4pm games are excellent because they allow for many hours of tailgating. Wee Wee and friends met me there, and I was able to get a prime parking spot next to them in the 2nd row. A new IU tradition started by new coach Terry Hoeppner is "The Walk" (see picture) where the players walk down the street in the middle of the tailgating fields and onto the stadium about 2 hours before the game, and the fans gather along the sides to cheer them to victory. It was good, but it will be even better when we start to beat 1-AA teams by more than 4 points and there are more than 40 people there.

The biggest and best part of tailgating was the fact that I was once again surrounded by the hottest women in the Midwest (including my lovely wife Jessie-- I love you). Apparently the new standard uniform for coeds is the miniskirt, thus replacing the sorostitute black pants that I grew to love in the late '90s. I am all for this change, and I thank whoever instituted it, as well as whoever brought dogs (especially the small ones) to the tailgating fields and whoever dropped footballs.

In addition to the beer drinking and occasional panty sighting, the biggest thing to come out of Saturday's tailgate was Jessie's new status: Legend. Here's how it went down. Some drunk idiot at the tailgate next to us was walking around with a little piece of shit dog that he kept claiming wasn't his. He happened to be wearing a Huntington North HS tennis shirt (Jessie's high school), so she went up to him to say "Go Vikes" (or whatever it is people from HNHS say to one another), and he was like, "Did you go to Huntington North? Are you a twin? Are you a Pope twin?" She of course says yes, and then all hell breaks loose. He yells to his buddies, "Hey guys, get over here. It's a Pope twin!" These guys end up being 4 years younger than Jessie (i.e., they never went to high school at the same time), yet somehow they knew that Jessie had an intership a couple summers ago in New York, that Ari was in Chicago, and that Jessie had been in Chicago. When Jessie inquired as to how these young sleuths knew this information, the answer was quite simple: "You're a Pope twin. You're a legend." So I'm married to a legend. I'm not sure exactly how to take that, but I'll assume it has more to do with her nun-chuck skills than anything else.

Now to the game . . .
Nicholls State shows up in the very same uniforms worn by the Ridgemont High Wolves. Apparently someone on IU messed up Charles Jefferson's Trans-Am pretty bad because these 1-AA mofos outplayed us. We gave up over 400 yards rushing. We only won by 4 points, which was only because we remembered that we're a Big Ten team and took the lead with 47 seconds left in the game. Until late in the 4th quarter, Nicholls State didn't have any passing yards. They ran my high school's wing-back triple option offense. If it didn't work against Downers Grove North, how the hell did it work against IU? This is possibly the worst showing I've ever seen by IU. Think about that for a second. This is the 10th year in a row I've had season tickets. I have missed exactly one home game in that span, and that was only because of a friend's wedding. Whether on TV or live, during that time I have seen, among other things:
-IU go 31-72 overall and 24-28 at home
-IU go 0-7 against Michigan, 0-7 against Ohio State, 0-7 against Penn State, 1-8 against Kentucky, 1-6 against Michigan State, and 2-7 against Purdue
-IU lose 62-0, 59-0, 58-0, 56-7, 55-7, 52-7 (twice), and 49-7
-Kentucky's Tim Couch throw 7 TD passes in one game
-Penn State's Larry Johnson run for 327 yards in one game
-Purdue's Kyle Orton throw for 530 yards in one game
-Michigan State score the first 3 times it touched the ball, with only one play on offense
-IU's own Chris "Instead of Taking a Sack, I'll Hand the Ball Off to the Defense" Dittoe play in more than one game
But I came away from the IU/Nicholls State game -- a squeak-out victory home victory over a 1-AA opponent -- feeling worse than any other game I've seen. Every time Nicholls State snapped the ball, the entire stadium (aside from the IU defense) knew it was either an option right or an option left. For God's sake, just put someone on the QB, someone on the FB, and someone on each RB.

I'm looking forward to this Saturday's match-up against the Kentucky Mildcats, who also struggled to beat a 1-AA opponent last Saturday, and who I assume does not run my high school's triple option attack offense. Regardless, IU is undefeated, and Terry Hoeppner is IU's first coach to start his career at IU 2-0 since Clyde B. Smith did so in 1948 (note: after outscoring their opponents 42-7 in those first 2 weeks, IU lost their remaining 7 games by a combined score of 210-33). If IU wins, the Hoosiers will be 3-0 (and will have won 3 in a row) for the first time since 1994 (IU's last winning season), and Hoeppner will be IU's first coach to start his career at IU 3-0 since James Sheldon led the Hoosiers to victories over Alumni (no wonder they won), Butler, and (you guessed it) Kentucky in his inaugural season 100 fucking years ago.

Saturday night was pretty mellow--just Nick's and Upstairs again. Watching Texas beat Ohio State was great, since most Buckeye fans I deal with on a day-to-day basis are morons. Sunday was great, since I basically just watched football for 12 hours (7 points--nice job Bears). Monday was great because I got to hold the careers of a bunch of law students in the palms of my cold, wretched hands. Ding!

Fantasy Update:
-Corn Hole'ers (Angry Pirates): 0-1
-FIC You (Car Ramrod): 1-0
-Glenview Gridiron (Angry Pirates): 1-0
-League of Extraordinary Gents (Angry Pirates): 1-0
-Pigskin 2005 Pick 'Em (Angry Pirates): 6 place (out of 16)

OC? O Yeah

So the season premier of The OC was last night. It was okay, and frankly, it resolved more than it should have in one episode. But rather than worry about what was resolved, perhaps we need to worry about several interesting questions left unanswered:
1. What's Jeri Ryan's character up to? What's her ulterior motive? Is it to get it on with Kirsten (man I hope so)? Or is it to steal Kirsten's identity? I don't trust her. She's got shifty eyes. (And yes, it's the same Jeri Ryan who is the ex-wife of former Illinois Gov. Jack Ryan, who took sweet, innocent Jeri to several sex clubs in Paris, the revelation of which cost Jack his chance to get destroyed by Barack Obama in last November's Senate race in Illinois)
2. Will Ryan (Atwood, not Jeri Ryan) continue to do awesomely bad impressions of Summer? Holy shit, that was hilarious, and I don't think it was meant to be.
3. Will Ryan and Marissa really be expelled from Harbor Academy? If so, how many asses will Ryan kick defending Marissa's honor in public school?
4. When will Teresa and R.J. (Ryan, Jr.) enter the picture? I'm hoping it's not until the season finale, right before Ryan is about to head to some prestigious college that Sandy somehow got Ryan into. The man may leave Chino, but Chino will never leave the man.
5. How big will Sandy let his eyebrows get before Kirsten returns from rehab?
6. When will Kirsten return from rehab? And when she does, how long before she gets hammered on straight vodka at 7am?
7. When will Oliver and Trey team up and come back for a cocaine-induced shooting spree?
8. How much money will Caleb leave to Julie? My guess (and hope) is none, so that she has to go back to making stag films.
9. Where's that saucy little tart of a coke whore, Jess? My guess (and hope) is that she's banging some street tough for coke.

I also watched the new show Reunion, which I wouldn't have watched unless it was on right after The OC, but the TV often makes me do things I otherwise wouldn't. Reunion was okay. The concept is pretty good. It starts at someone's funeral in the present day. All you know is that it's one of six friends who graduated from high school in 1986. Then each episode tracks those six friends throughout the years, with each episode representing a different year, starting with 1986. The acting was less than spectacular and, of the people in the scenes that took place in the supposed '80s, only about 17% were actually wearing '80s-style clothes. Most of them just looked like gypsys (I know Carmela would NOT have approved--see the "Back from the Land of the Dead" post below). Props, though, to Craig (great '80s prep name), the guy who only wore popped collars. As if every preppy douche needed more of an excuse to do that today. If only Craig had on a slightly tilted trucker hat with a clever phrase on it.

Well, I'm off to Indy and B-town in a few hours. Gooday.

On-Campus Interviewing

Yet another reason this weekend is going to rock the hizzi is because I get to do on-campus interviewing at IU on behalf of my firm on Monday. Finally I can be the intimidator instead of the intimidatee, and more importantly I can be the giver of the ding letter instead of the receiver (I have over 200 ding letters from my law school days--seriously). Here's my game plan: I have 30 minutes with each chump, so I plan to have them come in and sit down as if it will be a normal interview. I will then mill through their resume and transcript for 10 minutes, making various grunts, snickers, and eye rolls, and occasionally muttering things under my breath, such as "good one Corky," "this guy's a fucking moron," or "yeah right, asshole." After that, I will chuckle to myself, shake my head, throw their resume and transcript behind me, and just stare intently at them for 10 minutes, occasionally sighing. After that, I will ask questions for the last 10 minutes. Here are some good ones I thought of:

1. "Bill or Ted, dude?!" If they say Bill, I say "excellent!" If they say Ted, I say "bogus!"
2. "Who told you I was here?" This would be a good first question.
3. "Who is your favorite Ramone?"
4. "Which would you rather drink: a cup of vomit or a cup of diarrhea?" No matter what they say, I open a drawer, grab a styrofoam cup with a lid on it, hand it to them and say, "Well my friend, it's your lucky day. The last guy went with [the opposite of their choice]. Chug-a-lug!"
5. "Got any coke?"
6. "If you could be any breed of lion, which one would you be?"
7. "What are you still doing here?" This would also be a good first question, but an even better second question.
8. "Give me an example of when you lied or cheated to get ahead." If they say never, I'll say, "But isn't that what you just did?"
9. "Who is your favorite serial killer?" It doesn't really matter what they say here (although they would get bonus points if they say the Green River Killer--man, that guy could kill hookers), because in response -- while slowly walking toward the door to lock it and then going over to my briefcase and shuffling around inside it -- I'll say, "Yeah, he was okay, but I'm a bigger fan of the Dayton Demon. That guy's a genius. You probably haven't heard of him. His modus operandi is that he convinces his victims that he's someone other than who he says he is. He usually presents himself with a French surname. The victim usually doesn't suspect a thing because the guy looks normal and speaks very eloquently, but he talks about himself in the third person. From all the police can tell from the way they find his victims, he comes across as very calm and collected, and then . . . he . . . just . . . FUCKING SNAPS!!" Then I start smacking myself in the head and howl like a hyena.
10. "What number am I thinking of right . . . NOW?" Whatever their guess is, I say "Right! What about . . . NOW?" This cycle continues for the remainder of the interview.
11. "If you were an elm tree, how would communicate with the other elm trees? And remember, I said elm tree."
12. "What's your favorite gun?" No matter what the response, I will point at them and yell, "Pussy!!"
13. "Are you so naive to think that we're alone in this universe?" If they respond by saying something about not believing in aliens, I say, "But what about the Visigoths? Think about it."
14. "Why did you break up with me?"
15. "I'm telepathic. Let's see if you are." Then I look down, close my eyes, and concentrate. After a few seconds, I look up and say, "So you think I'm crazy, huh? This interview is over," and I escort them out of the room.
16. "Quick, give me 10 reasons not to name your child [the interviewee's name]."
17. "How many homeless people are you willing to kill for this job?" Assuming they answer 1 or more, I respond by throwing them a sword and saying, "Perfect. To the streets!!"
18. "When will you accept David Blaine as the second coming of Christ?"
19. "Do you have herpes?" After they say no, I say, "Well, the day ain't over yet," and then I wink and smile seductively.
20. "If you could share a prison cell with any one of the Brady children, who would it be?" For all answers but Greg, I would say, "But Greg has such soft skin." If they answer with Greg, I say, "God I admire you."
21. "Who is your favorite character in the movie Dune?" If they answer this one, I immediately kick them out.
22. "If you could only pronounce one word correctly, what would it be?"
23. "Sing!!" When they start to ask what I mean, I cut them off and yell it again until they start singing, at which point I pretend I'm an orchestra conducter.
24. "Would you rather stab yourself in the eyes with a pen or snort a shot of Tabasco?" Once they answer the latter, I say, "That's what I thought," and then I look at my pen, put it in my pocket, and hand them a shot of Tabasco and a straw.
25. "Laci Peterson or Chandra Levy?" No matter what they answer, I call them a "sicko."
26. "Nice suit. I've paid for back-alley handjobs that cost more than that. So what interests you about our firm?"
27. "What's your favorite character from Norse Mythology, and you can't say Thor, because everyone says Thor?"
28. "Just exactly what makes you think you're qualified to be a neurosurgeon at this hopsital. You haven't even gone to medical school." When they explain that this is an interview for a law firm job, I gather my things and leave without saying a word.
29. "Why haven't you ever been to Morocco?" When they try to explain themselves, I cut them off and say, "But it's fucking Morocco!"
30. "A triceratops and Dennis Hopper get into a fight. Who wins and why?" No matter what they answer, I excitedly reply, "That's exactly what I've been trying to tell those fools at NASA!"

Needless to say, I'm going to have a great time on Monday.

Work Sucks. Football Doesn't.

Turns out the worst thing about taking a week off of work is coming back and trying to make up a week's worth of work in 3 days. As you can see from this picture, I am overjoyed at the fact that I got to the office before dawn, with a post-dusk departure a likely possibility. I guess that's what I get for having my grandma die and then trying to drink Lake Michigan in four days. The only thing keeping me from eating my highlighter is knowing that college football has already started (and IU is undefeated--holla!). Plus the NFL is starting tomorrow night (so the Bears are also currently undefeated--holla!).

Holy shit, I just remembered that The OC starts tomorrow night. If I wasn't such a lazy bastard, I would take and post another picture of myself with a shit-eating grin bigger than when Kirsten Cohen gets all soused up on Absolut and thinks about getting a mustache ride from Carter Buckley. I can't wait for the moment when Ryan looks at some baby and realizes it's his. Talk about a moment when they should play that line from "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You" by Heart where she's like "imagine his surprise when he saw his own eyes." Teresa better hope Ryan's in a good mood. Man, football and The OC. This isn't a bad week after all.

Actually, now that I think about it, this might be one of the better weeks of this young millennium. I'm going to the White Stripes concert in Indy on Friday night (I still have 2 extra tickets available for face value for anyone who wants to go), and then I'm heading down to B-town for the weekend, which will include a possible IU football game against Nicholls State, a 1-AA opponent (which means that IU should win by at least 6 points). This is, of course, assuming that Nicholls State still plays (they are from Thibodaux, Louisiana, 60 miles west of the inaptly nicknamed Big Easy). IU wants to win this game so bad we've agreed to pay for their transportation up to Bloomington. Come on Nicholls State, we need this one! Wee Wee, I will be tailgating before the IU game, even if there is no game. Let me know if you're going down Friday or Saturday.

Talk about a metamorphasis of Buffalo-Bill-from-Silence-of-the-Lambs-esque proportions. Just 13 minutes ago, I was ready to eat a highlighter, and now I'm happier than a stripper on pay day. Shit, I'm giddy enough to work through the night. Hell, I might even skin a few fat chicks and make it official.