You Suck, Al!

Well that was the suckiest week of sucky blogging to ever suck. My apologies, but I'm slacking this summer; it's pretty much on purpose -- I'm enjoying one last summer of simple pleasures like video games and drinking -- this time next summer I'll be married [(?)(!)] and it seems like those kind of things aren't allowed when you're married (for some reason I picture my life rapidly descending into some kind of "King of Queens"-ish CBS bad family sitcom hell; I'll start working for a deliver company, The Lady Friend's dad will own The Malibu Sands, we'll befriend a black couple).

So I'm neglecting just about everything during this glorious little summer of ours; relationships, commitments, careers, houseplants, hygiene -- seriously, everything... including this blog.

Honestly, I just don't have shit to write about and I'm not putting forth the effort to think of something. I'll have something next week, as I hit a very special anniversary, but other than that it's going to be hit and miss the rest of the summer.


Anyway, that's it for me for a little -- I'll get back at you whenevers. Hell, maybe something cool will actually happen in my life and I'll be compelled to write about. In fact, I can only hope this weekend's fun can match that of last weekend's copious amount of ribaldry, where we found ourselves at a 'q down the street at long time friend of the shows Erin and Cathy's house. That party was the first party I have been to in over eight years to have the cops called on it. The cops (who were younger than most of the party goers) were really confused about why they were called to a yard full of mid-to-late twenty somethings, all drinking, gabbing relatively quietly, and enjoying some bags and washers. The cops almost seemed disappointed in us for not being wilder.

Maybe this weekend, we will be!

[anyway, have a great weekend, kids.]




Good Cop/Baby Cop

Babies are funny.

Good Cop, Baby Cop





I dare you to read this:

Misunderstanding leads to punch in the face

Peoria - A 69-year-old Table Grove man received a punch to the face on Tuesday after his attacker mistakenly believed his wife had been insulted, police said.

The victim, along with his 69-year-old wife, were in the parking lot of the Luthy Botanical Garden removing his motorized scooter from the trunk of their car about 2:30 p.m. when another vehicle began backing up towards the couple, police reports said.

The victim reportedly yelled at the driver to stop, about the same time he accidentally dropped part of his scooter to the ground and uttered, "Son of a (expletive)1," reports said.

A passenger in the moving car, got out demanding to know what the victim had said. The victim said he tried to explain but was punched in the face and fell to the ground, police said.

The victim's wife told the attacker she was calling police only to have the man allegedly threaten to strike her, as well, police reports said. The driver and attacker then drove off.

The victim told officers he did not direct his comment toward the driver and was just upset about dropping his scooter, reports said.

and not think of this:

Man, I miss Seinfeld. Thank god for the interwebs.

1What if the expletive wasn't "bitch" like you think it was? Maybe he yelled "Son of a Godshit!" or "Son of a fuckcracker!" I'd just like you to keep an open mind when reading "(expletive)" in the future.


If you find yourself in Dogtown tomorrow and notice a sweet smell of hickory and whiskey, that is me, smoking about seven pounds of brisket, sipping some bloody's, sours, and vodkades, sitting in one of these, getting ready for the first big Dogtown 'Q of the summer.

If you're in Dogtown tomorrow and smell something disgusting, that's probably my sweaty softball jersey, rotting in the hamper. TLF is seriously slacking on some laundry.

[have a great solstice weekend, kids. In case you were wondering what is the perfect vodka for a bloody, it is this, it seriously fucking rocks.]

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I learned a long time ago that every six months, I need to take a week off to do nothing. It's what keeps me going. Without the biannual break, I'd probably go insane. Well, more insane than I may or may not already be. Whatever.

Last week’s week off was just about perfect. Late Sunday afternoon, besides feeling a bit hung-over, I felt completely and totally rejuvenated, which is odd because I can't remember ever being juvenated in the first place.

The Lady Friend and I set off the weekend before last to my family's cabin in Indiana where we spent four days hanging out with my grandparents. We drank a few bottles of wine, I chopped up some cherry logs and smoked a pork shoulder which fed the four of us for about nine meals, we gabbed with the old folks over cards, did some swimming, and rolled some bocce. Just a great, relaxing weekend.

[Things I learned from my grandparents over the weekend: 1) All of the worlds problems would be solved if we just nuked the entire Middle East. 2) While they don't approve if it, in the upcoming presidential elections their friends (and I believe they speak for every American over the age of 75) would not vote for "the Jew" (I assume they mean Lieberman) or “the Morman” (Romney, I guess), they think "the black" (I'm assuming Obama) might be a good president, but they’ll probably vote for “the Mexican” (I think they mean Richardson, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they think Giuliani is Mexican. They’re kind of freaking crazy.) 3) When your grandmother asks the exact same question three times in a ten minute span, it's best to just nod and smile. Chances are she'll nod off in a few minutes and won’t remember anything, anyway.]

We came back on Wednesday; TLF went back to work and I set off on a Ray Peterson style vacation. I watched some ball games, drank a couple hundred beers, even did some work on the closets... If I just had a Rick Ducommun look-alike neighbor to help me solve some mysteries, my week would have been complete.

I was all set to get back to work -- nothing like ten days off to recharge the batteries.

But then, by the second hour of Tuesday morning, I was ready for a vacation. The last vacation only furthered my hunch: I am good at nothing. And by that, I don't mean I'm not good at anything, I mean I'm good at doing nothing.

I enjoy doing nothing; well, really I enjoy doing lots of things, but for the most part, all of those things are nothing things. Yes, I have a career (and it's a pretty good one) which I am now essentially seven years deep into (which scares me), and I'm pretty good at what I do, but I wouldn't be doing this for free if money was not a concern.

I am nearly 27 years old, and there is not a single thing I can think of that I would enjoy doing for forty hours a week besides sleep.

This, I fear, is what I may still be thinking in thirty years. And that, in a way, depresses me. But I guess that’s adulthood...

One more day till the weekend!

(Twenty eight years till retirement.)

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Vandals paint sorority house near Bradley

Peoria - Vandals damaged and mocked a West Bluff sorority house by adding a couple choice words before and after its Greek acronym.

In the last week, someone used black spray paint to write the words "WE" and "A LOT" between the Sigma Delta Tau sign on the front of the sorority's building, police reports said. Since the organization's Greek letters resemble the word "EAT," the sign appeared to read "WE EAT A LOT." The vandalism was discovered about 3 p.m. Monday by a resident.

Damage estimates for the building were not listed in the police report.

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So Long, Jerkasses!

I'm outta here for the next week, it's Summer vacay time and no work means no blogging, so you kids will have to find another way to waste 45 seconds of your morn for the next nine days. The Lady Friend and I are hitting the road east to my family's cabin in Indiana, where we will be doing what we do best: eating and drinking.

After that, it's back home for five lazy days of doing absolutely nothing. Except, maybe, if I'm lucky, pushing a giant ball of oil out of a window.


[have a great week and enjoy some summer, everyone. if you really need me, i will be in an intertube, sipping a whiskey drink, somewhere around here.]





Following around the links from the Deadspins yesterday, I stumbled across some sort of a handsome man contest involving bloggers, and noticed one of Joe Sports Fan's own, noted handsome man Matt Sebek, is in the competition. I urge you all to go here and cast a vote for the #18 seed.

Although, I do wonder about the validity of a hottest blogger contest when neither this guy, nor this guy, nor even this guy is participating.

Luckily, though, neither is this guy, this guy, or this guy.

(Sweet fuck, I take some bad pictures.)

(Also, I'm fairly certain it's illegal for me to talk about handsome men without linking to a picture of Handsome Mark Mulder.)

(And I'm pretty sure this post has just wiped away the twenty seven year record of staunch heterosexuality which I once had.)

(Although I think this now makes me eligible for a "Gay/Bi Bloggy Award" at the end of the year, so I got that going for me.)

(Which is nice.)

(More parentheses.)

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Wade Boggs Drinking Beer on a Horse

This story, which I have been replaying in my noggin once a week for the last five or so years, never gets old. In fact, I believe that we, as a Nation, need to consciously replace our mental image of this picture with this:

And yes, Wade Boggs drinks Beer brand beer. Apparently he shops at Peoria area Krogers, circa 1984.

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Everybody! An old man's talking! Al actually wrote something for the first time in like 5 years!

Now let's all go read it and remember that trees date back to frontier times!

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Goodbye Slack, Hello Prostitute!

Horrible week for The FYC, my apologies. I've been gearing up for summer and summer is not exactly conducive to blogging, what with all it's bbqs and pools and extra sunlight. I'll try better next week (total lie).

Anyways, just wanted to wish a fond farewell to longtime blog friend Slack LaLane. Ace is hanging things up in good fashion on the ol' blog, not letting it go whimpering into the night, but instead leaving us with one last Saved By The Bell clip. Mucho appreciante, Senor Ace. If you want to see what he's up to in the future, the Phish friendly Hidden Track is where he's now laying his hat. Check it out if you're so inclined. Go. Do it! Now!

Also, great news story from the ever crime riddled world of Peoria:

Peoria man robbed by pimp and prostitute

PEORIA - A Peoria man said he was swindled out of money by a prostitute and a pimp early Thursday after he had been drinking at Downtown pubs for hours.

The 27-year-old victim told police he went for a walk about 1:30 a.m. and stumbled upon a prostitute at the corner of Monroe Street and Spalding Avenue.¹

The woman convinced the victim to follow her behind a house in the 400 block of Monroe where she then demanded he pay her $12, police reports said.

The victim, who later denied making a deal for a sex act in exchange for money², said because he was intoxicated he decided to just give the woman the money.

As he pulled out his wallet, a man wearing a white tank top emerged from the shadows behind the house.

"We're real. Give it up," the man said to the victim, reports said.

The man then slapped the wallet out of the victim's hand, took an undisclosed amount of money from it, threw it back on the ground and ran with the woman into the darkness toward Spalding.³

¹ What luck!
² Yeah... riiight.
³ I hope he was wearing this.

[have a great summer weekend, kids. have fun drinking, but watch out for the pimps.]

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"I'll be dead in the cold, cold ground before I recognize the state of Missouri."