My buddy Jonas just came back from LA. He seemed beat, and so Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I, had him rest on the couch so he could get his strength back.
"What were you doing out there?" I said.
"You wouldn’t believe it if I told you."
And he told us. He was making a living as a sober friend. Sober friends are hired by celebrities to keep them on the straight and narrow.
"It’s harder than it sounds: not too much to drink. Keep them away from the coke. What’s that in the medicine cabinet? I don’t think he prescribes that many at a time. Do you really need Red Bull at 3AM? After a while I just couldn’t take it.... And the paparazzi, don’t get me started! I needed these over-sized Jackie Onassis sunglasses just to keep from losing my sight with all those flashbulbs!"
"I was a sober friend once," Mads said.
I looked at him. He couldn’t keep a straight face, and we both laughed.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Fuckers like you were the reason I couldn’t get any rest at night."
We looked at each other again. You thinking what I’m thinking? We jumped up and gave Jonas a huge wedgie.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Francesco Totti
Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I were out with some chicks the other night. They were really hot, and really dumb (the best kind, right?). Anyway, this one that thought she was smart was giving us her profound take on the differences between men and women.
"See, women are cool with their sexuality. We have no trouble saying when another woman is attractive. You guys can’t do it. You’re afraid people will think you’re gay."
"Not true," I said.
"Absolutely not," Mads said.
"Okay, name one guy you’d want to sleep with."
We looked at each other and said at the same time:
"Francesco Totti."
"Who’s that?"
"Francesco Totti?" I said. "Star striker for AS Roma? Only the coolest guy ever."
"And also ten kinds of hot."
"Okay, name another."
But we ignored her and went on talking about Totti.
"You know," Mads said. "It’d be way cooler to just hang out with him instead of sleep with him."
"Yeah, doing him in the butt would ruin it. We’d need a more feminine dude to do. Besides, Totti’d have so many women around him, we’d totally hook up with some of them instead."
"Oh yeah, just hanging out with Totti’d be awesome enough, but then you figure some of those women would sleep with us just to get closer to him, like chicks who sleep with the other band members in the Goo Goo Dolls."
"Only Totti’s way cooler than the Goo Goo Dolls’ lead singer. Can you imagine doing some chick, and Totti’d come in after having done three others that were way hotter?"
"And all at the same time."
"Of course. And he’d pat you on the back and say something like 'nice work', and we’d be so stoked that we got a complement from Totti. We’d be high-fiving after he left the room."
"Oh, it’d rule."
We noticed the girls had left us. We thought about going after them, but then went back to daydreaming about hanging out with Totti.
"See, women are cool with their sexuality. We have no trouble saying when another woman is attractive. You guys can’t do it. You’re afraid people will think you’re gay."
"Not true," I said.
"Absolutely not," Mads said.
"Okay, name one guy you’d want to sleep with."
We looked at each other and said at the same time:
"Francesco Totti."
"Who’s that?"
"Francesco Totti?" I said. "Star striker for AS Roma? Only the coolest guy ever."
"And also ten kinds of hot."
"Okay, name another."
But we ignored her and went on talking about Totti.
"You know," Mads said. "It’d be way cooler to just hang out with him instead of sleep with him."
"Yeah, doing him in the butt would ruin it. We’d need a more feminine dude to do. Besides, Totti’d have so many women around him, we’d totally hook up with some of them instead."
"Oh yeah, just hanging out with Totti’d be awesome enough, but then you figure some of those women would sleep with us just to get closer to him, like chicks who sleep with the other band members in the Goo Goo Dolls."
"Only Totti’s way cooler than the Goo Goo Dolls’ lead singer. Can you imagine doing some chick, and Totti’d come in after having done three others that were way hotter?"
"And all at the same time."
"Of course. And he’d pat you on the back and say something like 'nice work', and we’d be so stoked that we got a complement from Totti. We’d be high-fiving after he left the room."
"Oh, it’d rule."
We noticed the girls had left us. We thought about going after them, but then went back to daydreaming about hanging out with Totti.
Bathroom Polo
Right now... he’s probably dabbing on three dollars worth of that bathroom polooooooooooo...
"My problem with this song is thrice fold," Mads, my Norewegian companion, said.
"Okay, hit me sweet cheeks."
"First, we all know for a fact she doesn’t shoot whiskey and couldn’t swing a Louisville Slugger if Wade Boggs gave her step-by-step instructions. This is obviously a transparent attempt by her PR people to get her out of that sweet girl box using some type of female-empowerment applause anthem."
"Well, who’s worse? The PR people, or the women who can’t see through the transparent attempt at an applause/female-empowerment song and eat the crap up."
"Ooh, good point."
"I know. Okay, go on."
"All right, second, she carves her name into his upholstery. No one with any experience in breaking the law at all would do something like that. Now the cops know who to catch. Right?"
"It just goes back to the transparent attempt by her PR people to get her out of the good girl box. Neither they nor her know anything about breaking the law. It’s as silly as Crash was in discussing race relations."
"The movie with James Spader?"
"No, the bad one with Don Cheadle."
"Oh, but he was good in that, didn’t you think?"
"He was, but the movie was lame. Okay, bring it home."
"Okay. Third, she talks about the guy wearing Bathroom Polo. Who is that a bigger indictment of? The cheeseball who wears that crap, or you for dating him?"
"Oh, you for dating him, of course."
"Of course. It’s just stupid."
"Well, what if this is a post modern depiction of a white trash chick from the South?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if it’s not an applause song? What if the chick is as much the subject of the songstress’ ire as the guy and his hoochie fling? What if it’s a statement of the whole Jerry Springer culture?"
"You’re giving them way too much credit."
"You’re right."
"My problem with this song is thrice fold," Mads, my Norewegian companion, said.
"Okay, hit me sweet cheeks."
"First, we all know for a fact she doesn’t shoot whiskey and couldn’t swing a Louisville Slugger if Wade Boggs gave her step-by-step instructions. This is obviously a transparent attempt by her PR people to get her out of that sweet girl box using some type of female-empowerment applause anthem."
"Well, who’s worse? The PR people, or the women who can’t see through the transparent attempt at an applause/female-empowerment song and eat the crap up."
"Ooh, good point."
"I know. Okay, go on."
"All right, second, she carves her name into his upholstery. No one with any experience in breaking the law at all would do something like that. Now the cops know who to catch. Right?"
"It just goes back to the transparent attempt by her PR people to get her out of the good girl box. Neither they nor her know anything about breaking the law. It’s as silly as Crash was in discussing race relations."
"The movie with James Spader?"
"No, the bad one with Don Cheadle."
"Oh, but he was good in that, didn’t you think?"
"He was, but the movie was lame. Okay, bring it home."
"Okay. Third, she talks about the guy wearing Bathroom Polo. Who is that a bigger indictment of? The cheeseball who wears that crap, or you for dating him?"
"Oh, you for dating him, of course."
"Of course. It’s just stupid."
"Well, what if this is a post modern depiction of a white trash chick from the South?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if it’s not an applause song? What if the chick is as much the subject of the songstress’ ire as the guy and his hoochie fling? What if it’s a statement of the whole Jerry Springer culture?"
"You’re giving them way too much credit."
"You’re right."
Monday, April 14, 2008
Mads: Nightmare
A while back me and my Boston friend were traveling in England. We met a boy, coincidentally also named Mads, who ran a shop. The weird thing about the shop was that it sold stuff from Matty, my Boston friend’s personal biographer’s, past. Things like the movie Bad Taste or a baseball bat for hitting mailboxes. The boy explained that he was Matty’s branch office in Western Europe.
I had a dream last night that I was stuck in that office. It was very disheartening to say the least. No one wants to be put out to pasture. I woke my Boston friend up and told him my fears.
"It was just a dream. We’re too cool to end up over there. Besides, we’re real, they’re fake. Real people don’t get stowed in branch offices. Now go back to bed."
I wanted to believe him.
I had a dream last night that I was stuck in that office. It was very disheartening to say the least. No one wants to be put out to pasture. I woke my Boston friend up and told him my fears.
"It was just a dream. We’re too cool to end up over there. Besides, we’re real, they’re fake. Real people don’t get stowed in branch offices. Now go back to bed."
I wanted to believe him.
The Beard
I hadn’t seen Gwen, the Cappie, in a long time. I didn’t really think anything of it, until Matty, my personal biographer, mentioned he was commissioned to write the script for the new Captain America movie.
"Jesus," I thought, "I haven’t heard from Gwen in a while."
I called her and we agreed to meet at a coffee shop. When I got there, I was stunned: she looked exactly like she did before I had given her her make-over. This was somewhat distressing. I needed an explanation, simply for my own edification, if anything else.
"I was tired of being your beard."
"My beard?"
"You know, a woman used by a gay man to--"
"I know what it is. What gave you the impression I was gay?"
"You and that Norwegian friend of yours."
"Mads, my Norwegian companion?"
"Yeah. Don’t pretend you don’t have anything going on."
I couldn’t convince her otherwise: she was adamant that I was a homosexual. There was no real reason for me to hide my gay lifestyle if in fact I had one, but that wasn’t enough for her. I left her at the cafe, wearing the gross guy jeans and over-sized shirts she had on when I first met her all those years ago. C’est la vie.
"Jesus," I thought, "I haven’t heard from Gwen in a while."
I called her and we agreed to meet at a coffee shop. When I got there, I was stunned: she looked exactly like she did before I had given her her make-over. This was somewhat distressing. I needed an explanation, simply for my own edification, if anything else.
"I was tired of being your beard."
"My beard?"
"You know, a woman used by a gay man to--"
"I know what it is. What gave you the impression I was gay?"
"You and that Norwegian friend of yours."
"Mads, my Norwegian companion?"
"Yeah. Don’t pretend you don’t have anything going on."
I couldn’t convince her otherwise: she was adamant that I was a homosexual. There was no real reason for me to hide my gay lifestyle if in fact I had one, but that wasn’t enough for her. I left her at the cafe, wearing the gross guy jeans and over-sized shirts she had on when I first met her all those years ago. C’est la vie.
Barack Out With My...
Months ago Hubert Humphrey disappeared from the '08 presidential race. It was a disappointment, because he was really the only candidate I could get behind. Now I was stuck with Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. Yay!
So I asked Matty, my personal biographer, who he thought I should vote for, considering he at one time was pursuing a post-graduate degree in Political Science.
"I’m voting for Hillary."
"Why?"
"Because she sent me a letter to my folks’ house to go to the local high school and caucus for her."
"That’s it? Not anything special about the issues or her plans on health care versus Obama...?"
"I’m sorry man, I don’t know what to tell you."
I asked Mads, my Norwegian companion, what he thought about all this. He was playing FIFA ’08 as SK Brann, and trying to win the FA Cup in England.
"It just so happens I’ve kept a running tally of every time we’ve been contacted by either campaign’s staffers."
"You have?"
"Yeah, just to see who I should vote for. I like Matty’s system for picking a candidate."
"But you can’t vote. You’re a Norwegian citizen."
"They don’t know that."
"Yes they do."
"No they don’t. I’ve been voting here since 1996. Now do you want to hear who we should vote for?"
"Fine, all right."
"From letters, phone calls, and people yelling at me on the street, we’ve been contacted by Hillary 13 times, and Obama 15."
"I guess we’re voting for Obama then."
"See," Matty said. "It’s people like you who are dividing our party!"
So I asked Matty, my personal biographer, who he thought I should vote for, considering he at one time was pursuing a post-graduate degree in Political Science.
"I’m voting for Hillary."
"Why?"
"Because she sent me a letter to my folks’ house to go to the local high school and caucus for her."
"That’s it? Not anything special about the issues or her plans on health care versus Obama...?"
"I’m sorry man, I don’t know what to tell you."
I asked Mads, my Norwegian companion, what he thought about all this. He was playing FIFA ’08 as SK Brann, and trying to win the FA Cup in England.
"It just so happens I’ve kept a running tally of every time we’ve been contacted by either campaign’s staffers."
"You have?"
"Yeah, just to see who I should vote for. I like Matty’s system for picking a candidate."
"But you can’t vote. You’re a Norwegian citizen."
"They don’t know that."
"Yes they do."
"No they don’t. I’ve been voting here since 1996. Now do you want to hear who we should vote for?"
"Fine, all right."
"From letters, phone calls, and people yelling at me on the street, we’ve been contacted by Hillary 13 times, and Obama 15."
"I guess we’re voting for Obama then."
"See," Matty said. "It’s people like you who are dividing our party!"
DVR Etiquette
There was this Wednesday a while back that was a great day for soccer, what with a Premier League fixture and the second leg of the UEFA Cup tie between Everton and Fiorentina. Of course, I was out of town for these events, and needed to TiVo them. Much to my chagrin, neither game taped, due to insufficient space on our DVR box. I looked, and 90% of it was taken up with Reba episodes.
I called in Mads, my Norwegian companion.
"What?"
"Do you know anything about this?"
"Oh, yeah, there was a marathon. I figured I could get all of them at once, and not have to buy them on DVD. I plan on converting them on your DVD burner."
"Dude, we both share this DVR box. You can’t just take up 90% of it for an inordinate amount of time."
"Why can’t I?"
"It’s rude, in the first place."
"How is it rude?"
"How is it rude?"
"Yeah. I mean, the idea of TiVo is so new, there really haven’t been a list of guidelines laid out for DVR etiquette."
He made an excellent point. Too excellent, in fact. I felt like it was my job as a concerned citizen to remedy this issue. I asked Matty, my personal biographer, what he thought.
"Yeah, I was just talking to my buddy Brett about the same thing. He too was suggesting a sort of DVR etiquette."
I took up the torch.
Elements of DVR Etiquette:
RULE 1: DVR space must be allocated equally among all members of the television watching household. If one or more members of said household wish to relinquish some or all of designated space, an arrangement may be made to dole this space out amongst the remaining members in a manner that is fair and equitable.
RULE 1a: Always keep in mind that Hi-Definition programing takes up more space than regular broadcasts. One may only tape a few shows, but each show may take up much more of the allocated space than he or she expects.
RULE 2: If an individual must temporarily exceed his or her space limit, this must be done with the rest of the household’s consent. Once consent is given, the person exceeding the limit must make haste to watch his or her program swiftly and erase it so that the space is returned to the rest of the household.
RULE 3: Sporting events by their very nature exact a heavy toll on a DVR Box: not only do they take up large amounts of space, but the time they tape and the need to extend the designated recording time in case of overtime and whatnot tends to cause conflicts with already scheduled recordings. Sporing events should always be dealt with very carefully.
RULE 4: If two programs are recording at the same time, thus forcing anyone watching television at that moment to watch one or the other, the person watching at that time can cancel one of the recordings to watch his or her own program, especially if no prior arrangement has been made with respect to the two programs being on at the same time. Just because one individual is not present and must tape his or her programs, does not mean the rest of the household has to suffer and not enjoy their own programs.
RULE 5: Finally, when recording The Banana Splits, one must never keep more than two episodes saved on the DVR hard drive at any time.
I presented the rules to Mads, and at first he didn’t accept them. When he saw the Martha Stewart stamp of approval I received after I ran them by her, he was forced to relent. I can now with all assurances say that only 50% of our DVR box is filled with Reba.
I called in Mads, my Norwegian companion.
"What?"
"Do you know anything about this?"
"Oh, yeah, there was a marathon. I figured I could get all of them at once, and not have to buy them on DVD. I plan on converting them on your DVD burner."
"Dude, we both share this DVR box. You can’t just take up 90% of it for an inordinate amount of time."
"Why can’t I?"
"It’s rude, in the first place."
"How is it rude?"
"How is it rude?"
"Yeah. I mean, the idea of TiVo is so new, there really haven’t been a list of guidelines laid out for DVR etiquette."
He made an excellent point. Too excellent, in fact. I felt like it was my job as a concerned citizen to remedy this issue. I asked Matty, my personal biographer, what he thought.
"Yeah, I was just talking to my buddy Brett about the same thing. He too was suggesting a sort of DVR etiquette."
I took up the torch.
Elements of DVR Etiquette:
RULE 1: DVR space must be allocated equally among all members of the television watching household. If one or more members of said household wish to relinquish some or all of designated space, an arrangement may be made to dole this space out amongst the remaining members in a manner that is fair and equitable.
RULE 1a: Always keep in mind that Hi-Definition programing takes up more space than regular broadcasts. One may only tape a few shows, but each show may take up much more of the allocated space than he or she expects.
RULE 2: If an individual must temporarily exceed his or her space limit, this must be done with the rest of the household’s consent. Once consent is given, the person exceeding the limit must make haste to watch his or her program swiftly and erase it so that the space is returned to the rest of the household.
RULE 3: Sporting events by their very nature exact a heavy toll on a DVR Box: not only do they take up large amounts of space, but the time they tape and the need to extend the designated recording time in case of overtime and whatnot tends to cause conflicts with already scheduled recordings. Sporing events should always be dealt with very carefully.
RULE 4: If two programs are recording at the same time, thus forcing anyone watching television at that moment to watch one or the other, the person watching at that time can cancel one of the recordings to watch his or her own program, especially if no prior arrangement has been made with respect to the two programs being on at the same time. Just because one individual is not present and must tape his or her programs, does not mean the rest of the household has to suffer and not enjoy their own programs.
RULE 5: Finally, when recording The Banana Splits, one must never keep more than two episodes saved on the DVR hard drive at any time.
I presented the rules to Mads, and at first he didn’t accept them. When he saw the Martha Stewart stamp of approval I received after I ran them by her, he was forced to relent. I can now with all assurances say that only 50% of our DVR box is filled with Reba.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
