5/04/2009
Flee To The Cleve!!
9/08/2008
Mr Men
9/06/2008
Sofa King
Gold, Jerry. Lowest common denominator gold.
8/09/2008
I wrote it down on a piece of paper
I know I have posted this before (probably w/ a hilarious desrcription of how I used to sing this version of a Cutting Crew classic while waiting for breakfast aboard the USS Ashland), but it came up during Wed's baseball game with Dennis Quaid (I have no idea how, so don't ask) and it's still hilarious:
Snl - I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight - Click here for more home videos
Love your August, FYCers.
Snl - I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight - Click here for more home videos
Love your August, FYCers.
Labels: cuttin crew, youtubage
6/20/2008
Made me giggle
1/30/2008
Bird Poops In Mouth
1/17/2008
Three Great Mullets,
One fantastic interview.
One of the greatest moments of my youth.
Inspired by Major's Top 7 this week, click away and enjoy your Friday.
[have a great weekend watching the packers win the nfc, folks. sorry for the blog neglect as of late.]
One of the greatest moments of my youth.
Inspired by Major's Top 7 this week, click away and enjoy your Friday.
[have a great weekend watching the packers win the nfc, folks. sorry for the blog neglect as of late.]
Labels: Awesomness, youtubage
9/18/2007
Must of Been Something You SAAAAIIIIID
Because this song just came on VH1 Classic, I am compelled to show this:
Snl - I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight - A funny movie is a click away
On a side note, I spent many a morning in the mess hall of the USS Ashland back in 2003 screaming the SNL version of this fine Cutting Crew classic. Some liked it, others didn't. I, for one, fucking loved it.
And if anyone wants to do this at my wedding, I'm all for it. It's a go.
Snl - I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight - A funny movie is a click away
On a side note, I spent many a morning in the mess hall of the USS Ashland back in 2003 screaming the SNL version of this fine Cutting Crew classic. Some liked it, others didn't. I, for one, fucking loved it.
And if anyone wants to do this at my wedding, I'm all for it. It's a go.
Labels: Horatio Sanz Actually being funny, SNL, youtubage
8/24/2007
The State
I make references from "The State" all the time (particuarly sandwich feet/penis face jokes), but I don't think many people ever get them. Which is a damn shame, really and makes me look like an even bigger dolt than normal. Anyway, here's some good youtubage of the ol' MTV classic:
$240 Worth of Pudding:
Monkey Torture:
And my personal favorite, Old Fashioned Guy (I wish I could find more of these):
[have a great weekend, kids. enjoy the balloon race. (?)]
$240 Worth of Pudding:
Monkey Torture:
And my personal favorite, Old Fashioned Guy (I wish I could find more of these):
[have a great weekend, kids. enjoy the balloon race. (?)]
5/18/2007
Quickish Thoughts
An IT guy got fired from The Lady Friend's company for sleeping on the job (which is odd, since that's actually about all we do here in my IT dept -- different strokes, et al) so I now have a permanent spot on their company softball team. I went two for three last night with three rbi's and played one hot corner. I know none of you care (bunch of jerks, all of you), but I gots nuthing to writes about this morn....
... Oh, I know: The Office! Tremendous ending to the season last night. I actually haven't really cared for the last few weeks episodes; I have no room for plot developments in my sitcoms -- I want them funny and thats it. In fact, my favorite years of tv were in the mid 90's when both Seinfeld and The Simpsons decided to stop using any assemblance of logical, strung together plots (Armen Tanzarian's reign of terror, the Merv Griffin set in Kramer's apartment). However, the plot twist in The Office's final scene last night made up for any foibles I may have had with this season. (Did I just write "foibles?" is that even a word? Well, spell check is getting it, so I guess it is.) However, if it means that BJ Novak will be leaving the show, I heartily disapprove. He has written and produced some of the better episodes of the series, not exactly a lightweight. Lets hope he is still around.
Other than that... not much going on... oh, if I am ever driving to assassinate some commie bastard and then bed some ethnic beauty, I decided I will be listening to this song while on my way:
... and... that's about it, really... oh, I bought a smoker this week (yes, that's it right over there), so if you find yourself in Dogtown tomorrow and wonder what that delectable aroma is, it is I, cooking ribs. You may not have any, but feel free to help yourself to some slaw. It's poisoned.
...That's it. That's a week. Oh... Thanks for all the help with Project: Al's Wedding Music. If ya'll think of any more, drop 'em off, pleasy-o.
...There. That's it. Seriously. That's your week.
Go home now, tell your boss Al said it's okay.
Do it, pussy.
[have a great weekend, kids. remember that time i ate shit? that was awesome. except for the part where i ate the shit.]
... Oh, I know: The Office! Tremendous ending to the season last night. I actually haven't really cared for the last few weeks episodes; I have no room for plot developments in my sitcoms -- I want them funny and thats it. In fact, my favorite years of tv were in the mid 90's when both Seinfeld and The Simpsons decided to stop using any assemblance of logical, strung together plots (Armen Tanzarian's reign of terror, the Merv Griffin set in Kramer's apartment). However, the plot twist in The Office's final scene last night made up for any foibles I may have had with this season. (Did I just write "foibles?" is that even a word? Well, spell check is getting it, so I guess it is.) However, if it means that BJ Novak will be leaving the show, I heartily disapprove. He has written and produced some of the better episodes of the series, not exactly a lightweight. Lets hope he is still around.
Other than that... not much going on... oh, if I am ever driving to assassinate some commie bastard and then bed some ethnic beauty, I decided I will be listening to this song while on my way:
... and... that's about it, really... oh, I bought a smoker this week (yes, that's it right over there), so if you find yourself in Dogtown tomorrow and wonder what that delectable aroma is, it is I, cooking ribs. You may not have any, but feel free to help yourself to some slaw. It's poisoned.
...That's it. That's a week. Oh... Thanks for all the help with Project: Al's Wedding Music. If ya'll think of any more, drop 'em off, pleasy-o.
...There. That's it. Seriously. That's your week.
Go home now, tell your boss Al said it's okay.
Do it, pussy.
[have a great weekend, kids. remember that time i ate shit? that was awesome. except for the part where i ate the shit.]
Labels: Links, Lots of Tags, Phish, Quick Thoughts, Stuff You Probably Don't Care About, That Time I Ate Shit, The Office, youtubage
5/08/2007
Mystery, Al (Fritz)
If I could properly sum up my recent string of craptitude in life into one example, it would be this: One of The Lady Friends best friends growing up now plays professional baseball. He's in the Rockies organization and got called up to the bigs a few weeks back. We checked out the schedule and saw that the Rockies were coming to St Louis this week. Hoping against hope that we'd get to see him play at Busch, I hopped online and ordered up some tickets for tonight's game; not the cheap ones, either. Later that day, he was optioned back to AAA.
Great.
So, tonight I get to see two very bad baseball teams play a random Tuesday night game in May. "Taylor Buchholz! Brad Thompson! Baseball Fever! Catch it!"
Luckily, to help pull me out of these here spring doldrums has been the ever plucky Ace Cowboy of Slack LaLane. He's been firing Phish youtube clips into my box ("Thats what she said") at a staggering rate, and I have been enjoying the ever living hell out of them.
Phish... Bad Cardinals baseball... Somebody give me a baby blue '93 LeBaron, a New Yorker pizza and an 18 pack of Icehouse 'cause I'm pretty sure 1999 is calling collect (from a payphone) for me.
And speaking of 1999, I now have my first mystery to solve since that gorgeous year full of Lewinsky jokes, Y2K fears, casual handjobs, and the fighting spirit of a moronic 19 year old.
To begin, back in the late 90's, when this Internet thing-a-ma-jig was first starting up, my buddy Joe had a frighteningly large e-mail group known as "The Joe Report."
It followed his exploits as he bounced around between schools, playing guitar and helping retards. He'd fire out a summary of his gallivanting antics every two or three weeks, and eventually this e-mail grew to include separate mini-columns from others in the group. I wrote a column title "I Am Not Making This Up" in which I (mostly) lied about fights with both the law and children, excessive drinking and eating of Wendy's, and wondered in print why my buddy Gibby had such an odd, down right dangerous obsession with the character "Dauber" on Coach.
Anyhoo -- during one prolonged "cold streak" of mine (which was actually broke by the young minx from this tale) I started writing about how I had lost my groove, yet was determined to find it (I can't remember exactly what happened -- I'll have to dig through the Fritz archives later -- but I'm pretty sure that in the end, it was found to have been stolen by Ozzie Smith) (don't ask); and that became the great mystery of 1999. A nice lil' sub-plot, if you will: Where is Al's groove and can he get it back?
Alright, now fast forward yourself from those glorious, hazy late 90's days of frisbee golf, ¢79 gallons of gas, $2 packs of smokes, and $10 dime bags to the present day. Well, last Sunday actually. TLF an I are at the friendly neighborhood Schnucks, grabbing some supplies for a wonderful Sunday night feast. While standing in the checkout line and wondering to myself whether or not it was a good idea to drink that gigantic vodka-lemon-lime-ade (say it real fast) last night (it was) and deciding just how hilarious Floyd Mayweather looked wearing a sombrero (very. Very hilarious. "Get it? Its an oversized hat. It's funny.") I noticed a picture sticking out of the magazine rack.
It was this picture:
Odd, me thought. I picked it up and flipped it around. This was to be found:
Well, I don't know. I don't know anything about what in the hell is going on here. I looked around, hoping perhaps there were more pictures to be found, but there were none. Confused, I slipped it into my pocket. I got home and sent an e-mail to the address from the back:
Forty some odd hours later... Nothing. No response at all. What the devil is going on? Is this some sort of treasure hunt? Am I in some weird Christopher Nolan-esque movie and not know it? Am I going to find two old dudes chilling on a picnic table on my front yard one of these days (which would realllly freak me out)? I don't know.
I just don't know.
I don't know what the hell is going on, so I'm just throwing it out there, internets. Hoping for some leads.
I also don't know how to finish this rambling, idiotic post. Oh wait. Yes I do:
Great.
So, tonight I get to see two very bad baseball teams play a random Tuesday night game in May. "Taylor Buchholz! Brad Thompson! Baseball Fever! Catch it!"
Luckily, to help pull me out of these here spring doldrums has been the ever plucky Ace Cowboy of Slack LaLane. He's been firing Phish youtube clips into my box ("Thats what she said") at a staggering rate, and I have been enjoying the ever living hell out of them.
Phish... Bad Cardinals baseball... Somebody give me a baby blue '93 LeBaron, a New Yorker pizza and an 18 pack of Icehouse 'cause I'm pretty sure 1999 is calling collect (from a payphone) for me.
And speaking of 1999, I now have my first mystery to solve since that gorgeous year full of Lewinsky jokes, Y2K fears, casual handjobs, and the fighting spirit of a moronic 19 year old.
To begin, back in the late 90's, when this Internet thing-a-ma-jig was first starting up, my buddy Joe had a frighteningly large e-mail group known as "The Joe Report."
It followed his exploits as he bounced around between schools, playing guitar and helping retards. He'd fire out a summary of his gallivanting antics every two or three weeks, and eventually this e-mail grew to include separate mini-columns from others in the group. I wrote a column title "I Am Not Making This Up" in which I (mostly) lied about fights with both the law and children, excessive drinking and eating of Wendy's, and wondered in print why my buddy Gibby had such an odd, down right dangerous obsession with the character "Dauber" on Coach.
Anyhoo -- during one prolonged "cold streak" of mine (which was actually broke by the young minx from this tale) I started writing about how I had lost my groove, yet was determined to find it (I can't remember exactly what happened -- I'll have to dig through the Fritz archives later -- but I'm pretty sure that in the end, it was found to have been stolen by Ozzie Smith) (don't ask); and that became the great mystery of 1999. A nice lil' sub-plot, if you will: Where is Al's groove and can he get it back?
Alright, now fast forward yourself from those glorious, hazy late 90's days of frisbee golf, ¢79 gallons of gas, $2 packs of smokes, and $10 dime bags to the present day. Well, last Sunday actually. TLF an I are at the friendly neighborhood Schnucks, grabbing some supplies for a wonderful Sunday night feast. While standing in the checkout line and wondering to myself whether or not it was a good idea to drink that gigantic vodka-lemon-lime-ade (say it real fast) last night (it was) and deciding just how hilarious Floyd Mayweather looked wearing a sombrero (very. Very hilarious. "Get it? Its an oversized hat. It's funny.") I noticed a picture sticking out of the magazine rack.
It was this picture:
Odd, me thought. I picked it up and flipped it around. This was to be found:
Well, I don't know. I don't know anything about what in the hell is going on here. I looked around, hoping perhaps there were more pictures to be found, but there were none. Confused, I slipped it into my pocket. I got home and sent an e-mail to the address from the back:
Forty some odd hours later... Nothing. No response at all. What the devil is going on? Is this some sort of treasure hunt? Am I in some weird Christopher Nolan-esque movie and not know it? Am I going to find two old dudes chilling on a picnic table on my front yard one of these days (which would realllly freak me out)? I don't know.
I just don't know.
I don't know what the hell is going on, so I'm just throwing it out there, internets. Hoping for some leads.
I also don't know how to finish this rambling, idiotic post. Oh wait. Yes I do:
Labels: mysterys, Stuff That She Said, Stuff You Probably Don't Care About, youtubage
