tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65880566457185406902024-03-14T01:25:35.332-04:00Breakfast at Jimothy'sA Pop-Culture BlogBreakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.comBlogger178125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-45535346251123393122023-05-02T20:30:00.000-04:002023-05-02T20:30:39.405-04:00Very Sad: A 2023 Boston Bruins Playlist<p>Alright so the Bruins may or may not have broken a lot of hearts this past Sunday night. What was a historic regular season turned into an utter embarrassment as they lost in 7 games to the shitty Florida Panthers. I won't dwell on the series long outside of keeping in mind that it was the Florida god damn Panthers. Leading up to the end of the season, Bruins coach Jim Montgomery chose to make Bryan Adams hit "Summer of 69" the official team song, as it was the "best days of our lives". That choice of song was the first time I thought to myself, "hmm...maybe this won't end well". That song kinda sucks. It's just...Bryan Adams. I don't think anyone on the planet considers that their favorite song, no matter the situation. The purpose of this blog is to give all of you still reeling from the epic playoff disaster a playlist that will make you feel bet....well it'll make you feel something.</p><p>I want to address the angst, needs and frustration all Bruins fans are feeling. Therefore, it may be eclectic but I think I compiled a nice 20 song playlist that you can all come to appreciate. And if you don't appreciate it? Well, Bucko, I believe that I have the best taste of music ever, so, there!</p><p>Without any further ado: The 2023 Boston Bruins Playoff Disaster Playlist</p><p>'Family Reunion' - Blink 182: If you are familiar with this song, you know why it is here. If you are not familiar with this song, I'd recommend googling the lyrics or make sure you listen to it with headphones on because the words may shock anyone nearby who may overhear. I reckon many of us were singing...well, saying, these lyrics in some way, shape, or form when the Panthers tied up the game with a minute left.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcHg-PS7jjMAnVtgWGQVEiCI2kpB9yEohiqYq6EXzkIze_AaIhunoXKi3YEsW9LgKYSh6WJa9yDy1Kb-tRuJ-FaCrlvHKL_JqklwDnFnoha2z7r_qV3KvVot70O1MPMkpg-gEMQIgtlfWdI6qjRkl1O-ezhfOVVpQ_ftlxIw_r-tIIF7dvgRcKb3xkQ/s370/wtf.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="370" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcHg-PS7jjMAnVtgWGQVEiCI2kpB9yEohiqYq6EXzkIze_AaIhunoXKi3YEsW9LgKYSh6WJa9yDy1Kb-tRuJ-FaCrlvHKL_JqklwDnFnoha2z7r_qV3KvVot70O1MPMkpg-gEMQIgtlfWdI6qjRkl1O-ezhfOVVpQ_ftlxIw_r-tIIF7dvgRcKb3xkQ/s320/wtf.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now' - The Smiths: Food doesn't have any taste. Things are numb. Joy is lost. Everything stinks.</p><p>'Until the Day I Die' - Story of the Year: This is a throwback song to get the anger out. I like to think I spill my heart for the Bruins, and whatever is spilling out of said heart is definitely black and gold. The screaming in this song is a good way to get the frustration out. 10 out of 10 don't recommend trying this at Karaoke. Your vocal chords are precious, people! Take care of them!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbNKAALJeFYaYEjBqLIlU4hE0uij_yL3VG-Av_vQqyRWF9En3LNFjdww5jjlX8dv_2r7AqTmq3z7UGCI-XAHxWn8OihseIoBcujO1pK77cPAgF9EeOVbYOBXZQe9d-6HGTSl5iuHxeMaAaVIh5B4N80b61eC1U6kPvIAYl5mC8TQiWfEhH4Tq5IOkqw/s320/story%20of%20the%20year.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="320" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbNKAALJeFYaYEjBqLIlU4hE0uij_yL3VG-Av_vQqyRWF9En3LNFjdww5jjlX8dv_2r7AqTmq3z7UGCI-XAHxWn8OihseIoBcujO1pK77cPAgF9EeOVbYOBXZQe9d-6HGTSl5iuHxeMaAaVIh5B4N80b61eC1U6kPvIAYl5mC8TQiWfEhH4Tq5IOkqw/w400-h225/story%20of%20the%20year.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MTV2 flashbacks for anyone else?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>'Boys Don't Cry' - The Cure: Right? RIGHT!?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UqeZjFhGqiXfMIiKkECo96hns9WZhes1ElpbPPRkz4tESk8mN9NkPZAbMqvYTzjZhEGAUP6R3m_hfMlFQEiIS2UZfdIiVjVjpJPJzHSz5CRefoJ1NgiEDiYGtC1pq8NmR01E8IWvlpcd-iRBZDr_Zt6RY0RtwGCAoFSy3ciGvNXUdarGW0EhfxWh6Q/s500/cure.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="500" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UqeZjFhGqiXfMIiKkECo96hns9WZhes1ElpbPPRkz4tESk8mN9NkPZAbMqvYTzjZhEGAUP6R3m_hfMlFQEiIS2UZfdIiVjVjpJPJzHSz5CRefoJ1NgiEDiYGtC1pq8NmR01E8IWvlpcd-iRBZDr_Zt6RY0RtwGCAoFSy3ciGvNXUdarGW0EhfxWh6Q/s320/cure.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>'Thank U' - Dido: I would like to thank the Bruins for giving us the most fun regular season I have ever seen in my entire life! Every single game seemed like they had a chance to win, no matter the odds. That cannot be cast aside. It was a fun run. Oh god dammit who am I kidding this sucks the regular season is meaningless and NONE OF THIS MATTERS WITHOUT A STANLEY CUP GAHHHHHH WHY GOD WHY.</p><p>'Constant Headache' - Joyce Manor: This one goes out to Matthew Tkachuk. I hate him but I sure wouldn't mind if he was a Bruin. What a pain in the ass. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAemLz9LlQ-EShFqZS8cuQxNatgaxbkp_Lc1QIXCPFDVEdQka0-onFnNV5uS470xQ75V35HhSAPNZKG66EVSfUdbSgPKCSQfvCjebBExks7jcpo_AJAYsdPKWCBWe0Sem0ouZEC1R9veDAetMjaGUxEZd_QZ3EfLZ2iIwIaaLNXXmdl_7HqQ8EJMwkMA/s1200/tkachuk.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAemLz9LlQ-EShFqZS8cuQxNatgaxbkp_Lc1QIXCPFDVEdQka0-onFnNV5uS470xQ75V35HhSAPNZKG66EVSfUdbSgPKCSQfvCjebBExks7jcpo_AJAYsdPKWCBWe0Sem0ouZEC1R9veDAetMjaGUxEZd_QZ3EfLZ2iIwIaaLNXXmdl_7HqQ8EJMwkMA/s320/tkachuk.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zack Kassian doing the Lord's work here.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>'Rock Lobster' - The B-52's: Okay so I know this one seems random but hear me out. There is no wrong time to listen to Rock Lobster. It is a weird, catchy-as-hell song, and it provides the listener a great distraction from things when they make all the supposed noises of sea creatures like narwals, sea robins and even jellyfish. It really is an amazing song when you come to think of it. Kind of haunting? Anyways, it's a distraction to quit thinking of Sam Bennett being such an annoying prick all series long. </p><p>'Hard to Explain' - The Strokes: A song fitting for when a team who won 65 out of 82 games in the regular season gets bounced in the first round of playoffs to the little brother team of Florida, who has something called a Radko Gudas playing defense for them. Nothing makes sense. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivv8q-v4E91adL4Ku1NfQxwyUokdd7fHlmqc2mBR0ITvQxvDW-0q6l14nqLkIzAx7OZ5AqcvXjRS9bK_0YlpIZYAw7S-uxnK3SBndoOoO6YVLPLep5QlciYDgkxNQyMF_Vj9PaVY8gAY38oqnFBsw78ZRpb2TRnwoYxbSWf1khz_3SKBeZaGHYhaMMmg/s220/hard%20to%20explain.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="211" data-original-width="220" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivv8q-v4E91adL4Ku1NfQxwyUokdd7fHlmqc2mBR0ITvQxvDW-0q6l14nqLkIzAx7OZ5AqcvXjRS9bK_0YlpIZYAw7S-uxnK3SBndoOoO6YVLPLep5QlciYDgkxNQyMF_Vj9PaVY8gAY38oqnFBsw78ZRpb2TRnwoYxbSWf1khz_3SKBeZaGHYhaMMmg/s1600/hard%20to%20explain.gif" width="220" /></a></div><br /><p>'Let's Get Fucked Up and Die' - Motion City Soundtrack: I'm (not) speaking figuratively, of course. I imagine this was the general feeling of the crowd leaving the Boston Garden in the pouring rain on their way to Sullivan's Tap. In times like this, as the Irish like to, you just have to look towards the bottom of a glass in silence to try and figure out what the hell just happened. Please note: there is never a good answer. </p><p>'Break Stuff' - Limp Bizkit: I'm not telling you to always follow the advice of Fred Durst and Co. but this song at the very least sums up what a lot of us wanted to do (they were up 3 games to 1 and blew it!!!!!!!! God I hate sports so damn much).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_3WV_MkGLzSV8FyIozhPfPoNjdUPL5_65CHCmpCdE7iqyz5C4wNlRwb-xlJW5SJM8BjSAe0JW_pHz4UjuUUyWHknsOA3NllJHHmw0LBLwLAsMGu7ZUzF6Xw0ftcO0-rZRqlSu9AsAEj-15hT1diFMC2TR9aepzH8ZA4bHzp2bGPJUZDviq8MC64jjw/s220/break%20stuff.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="123" data-original-width="220" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_3WV_MkGLzSV8FyIozhPfPoNjdUPL5_65CHCmpCdE7iqyz5C4wNlRwb-xlJW5SJM8BjSAe0JW_pHz4UjuUUyWHknsOA3NllJHHmw0LBLwLAsMGu7ZUzF6Xw0ftcO0-rZRqlSu9AsAEj-15hT1diFMC2TR9aepzH8ZA4bHzp2bGPJUZDviq8MC64jjw/w400-h224/break%20stuff.gif" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>'The World Has Turned and Left Me Here' - Weezer: A song of loneliness to pair with the abysmal feeling of being left out...of round 2 of the damn playoffs. </p><p>'That's Life' - Frank Sinatra: I mean, yeah disappointment is a part of life. I'm more interested in the end of the song where Ol' Blue Eyes says he wants to roll up into a big ball and diiiiiiiiiiiie. </p><p>'Cruel Summer' - Bananarama: I think back to 2011 and how awesome of a summer that was. To be fair, turning 21 that July helped things, but having that Stanley Cup winning run happening all summer long was amazing. This summer? A whole lot of what if's and god-dammits while thinking of what could have been. Cruel indeed.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_zVuOOOfPDOxi5cLAJh2skU15UtdLkpsiUvVE499pvrDnM4TcBiI0aS72e5RhCAgwauNSa1wjkKIipYE-2QzB6Z2T55LfbiEHE7vorHOrzKL_Sj3mBEqRUFSnFnMXHWe0n4DTH0bg0_ULh77RLg8_H3K2_wtS8SmW2SIBpqUtLY7UXb2ulIx9W-6vQ/s554/characup.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="554" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_zVuOOOfPDOxi5cLAJh2skU15UtdLkpsiUvVE499pvrDnM4TcBiI0aS72e5RhCAgwauNSa1wjkKIipYE-2QzB6Z2T55LfbiEHE7vorHOrzKL_Sj3mBEqRUFSnFnMXHWe0n4DTH0bg0_ULh77RLg8_H3K2_wtS8SmW2SIBpqUtLY7UXb2ulIx9W-6vQ/w400-h235/characup.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011 was awesome. So many Miller Lites in Vortex bottles</td></tr></tbody></table><p>'Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?' - Culture Club: I know they didn't want to hurt us, but the hurt happened. </p><p>'I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself' - The White Stripes: What the shit am I supposed to do from now until mid June? Watch some other trash hockey team go out and win the Stanley Cup? Time to take up some new hobbies. Crochet sounds nice. Maybe there's a bobsled track nearby? Need to pass the time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrl9DvnLXXBLGxRTGraDk9MR40uqq4IZc1CybVfVb-BdqCi7nkGzMzrbkq8_Wcje0mvDSop8yD7JT5chFWcInSyeBuHnhPpAFcaKzgUPG0Q5glwkPN7qZL6_Lc8-xxXlQbT95sHuzLI-Uqmji4852hVhlRYrPjUQ5nAuhmF9Dvr848wamUNsxqkBRRg/s480/travolta.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrl9DvnLXXBLGxRTGraDk9MR40uqq4IZc1CybVfVb-BdqCi7nkGzMzrbkq8_Wcje0mvDSop8yD7JT5chFWcInSyeBuHnhPpAFcaKzgUPG0Q5glwkPN7qZL6_Lc8-xxXlQbT95sHuzLI-Uqmji4852hVhlRYrPjUQ5nAuhmF9Dvr848wamUNsxqkBRRg/s320/travolta.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>'I'm So Tired' - Fugazi: A nice simple song from hardcore legends Fugazi. "I'm so tired, sheep are counting me". Yep. I'm so damn tired of being disappointed year in and year out. </p><p>'It Will All End in Tears' - The Drums: Sad. Self explanatory. Would've been a lot cooler if it ended in tears of happiness. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZq8VqgZ3G_aXOYEEJCTOaEKkthV5XFDIwM3dVDNrzSQYOCA2Rj-x-FXrYSVyFjV5Dt3mKfpWuY8OnqUvJrdmkvafQ21a0fBZYAFC0Efk7ogkCJ3KIdLOGFacyV_4tmPVvNJI1wralc7KMTXagkS66Fpwt5Tr3ukpSpF2-0tkyYpXtaVNIiv58YCXDQ/s1296/crying%20jordan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1296" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZq8VqgZ3G_aXOYEEJCTOaEKkthV5XFDIwM3dVDNrzSQYOCA2Rj-x-FXrYSVyFjV5Dt3mKfpWuY8OnqUvJrdmkvafQ21a0fBZYAFC0Efk7ogkCJ3KIdLOGFacyV_4tmPVvNJI1wralc7KMTXagkS66Fpwt5Tr3ukpSpF2-0tkyYpXtaVNIiv58YCXDQ/s320/crying%20jordan.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>'What It Is To Burn' - Finch: For the emo's out there. It's really just about that guttural scream after the big breakdown. It's rather fitting to get out the angst and emotions after all those turnovers the Bruins gave up. </p><p>'My Hero' - Foo Fighters: This one goes out to Patrice Bergeron. The man is a saint. There should be a statue of him already in the planning stages. If this was indeed it for the Captain, it was a hell of a run. He is a hockey coach's dream example of a perfect player on and off the ice. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8PspUtExf0XIMQfTQLyQ_P8M3jcVm-WGDfZEJiHJldqq0A5O7bPiUuQzvbjxN7j0WmJ8FWgDb-FPHnbYT_EpBPZXPEBICmAxYYE00LUiXvz0sjZchluADd1eGlxuL5r_qMK7tbCbCi1T8i7rdly-hDvFIlTfwObC_vOjvg8Sakp0mmAnU6r8BX9-lA/s1400/saint%20patrice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8PspUtExf0XIMQfTQLyQ_P8M3jcVm-WGDfZEJiHJldqq0A5O7bPiUuQzvbjxN7j0WmJ8FWgDb-FPHnbYT_EpBPZXPEBICmAxYYE00LUiXvz0sjZchluADd1eGlxuL5r_qMK7tbCbCi1T8i7rdly-hDvFIlTfwObC_vOjvg8Sakp0mmAnU6r8BX9-lA/s320/saint%20patrice.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>'Somebody Kill Me Please' - Adam Sandler in the Wedding Singer: 'Oh somebody kill me please, somebody kill me please, I'm on my knees, pretty pretty please, kill me'. Drastic? Absolutely! Does it hit home after the events of Sunday evening? Also, absolutely. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dkUGDmRLSDH2NJHd3YHqs7cP9c-NLTouztYaCehlfvK5u5f9jvsgv7YXivYUW9JASm5QH2iQUStQtsUm5N6hVQ5G-WMF2JBQXo9pBAKSVsZhTASVfFMdT3v4Fl5YJtygwDnJgWxyWajnV0p2xgdpl-fMkrrrqqwml67SagzEE2gvJ7XGS0XmgabX8Q/s250/wedding%20singer%20gif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="250" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dkUGDmRLSDH2NJHd3YHqs7cP9c-NLTouztYaCehlfvK5u5f9jvsgv7YXivYUW9JASm5QH2iQUStQtsUm5N6hVQ5G-WMF2JBQXo9pBAKSVsZhTASVfFMdT3v4Fl5YJtygwDnJgWxyWajnV0p2xgdpl-fMkrrrqqwml67SagzEE2gvJ7XGS0XmgabX8Q/w320-h161/wedding%20singer%20gif.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>This one hurts. It's going to take some time to get over this one. </p><p>Nothing makes sense.</p><p>Up is down. Left is right. </p><p>Misery. It's all the rage right now.</p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-8901794097492342792023-03-20T21:28:00.000-04:002023-03-20T21:28:25.906-04:00Not Very Cool(ey) Of You!Well cut off my legs and call me Shorty! Today was not the greatest day for fans of the recently underwhelming Providence College Friars. The Friar Faithful all took a shot to the nether regions when our worst nightmare of coach Ed Cooley leaving became true. Not only that, but leaving to take the helm of fellow Big East member/rival Georgetown. Basically, Ed Cooley is Tom Sandoval, Friar fans are Ariana, and Georgetown is Raquel. I guess this makes me James Kennedy because here I am about to rant and rave like a lunatic but hey whatever works. <div><br /></div><div>What the shit gives, Ed?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRMt5w7FEQc57IKGgLAzoUUKcbcI-7xS_Qcb8n2BpPPN52DVcMteGuy9Iv4WA7et7ZqNKSBDSgHus63mWkIuXklPh4SUiXIqXbCWI-LuUJ09Aq_0BefVMwbSn6ZSu158BqwIkGPaFWsEP1gA0DGzNj186aftfTvPERAIlXKHLvMVd9mJzWwykXVOABw/s634/7A4031D5-2A30-4E80-8737-AB8369C6B646.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="634" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRMt5w7FEQc57IKGgLAzoUUKcbcI-7xS_Qcb8n2BpPPN52DVcMteGuy9Iv4WA7et7ZqNKSBDSgHus63mWkIuXklPh4SUiXIqXbCWI-LuUJ09Aq_0BefVMwbSn6ZSu158BqwIkGPaFWsEP1gA0DGzNj186aftfTvPERAIlXKHLvMVd9mJzWwykXVOABw/s320/7A4031D5-2A30-4E80-8737-AB8369C6B646.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>I’m going to get all the praise out of the way to get it out of my system. Coach Cooley was good for PC. When he took over for that dolt Keno Davis, it was a sort of dark ages for PC Hoops. Cooley came in and turned it around relatively quick. It’s hard to complain when they won a Big East tournament title, a Big East regular season title, multiple trips to March Madness, making the transfer portal his bitch, and overall building PC into a team that was no longer a joke. For that, I thank you! It was a hell of a run. It was nice to no longer be a laughingstock, basement dweller charter member of the Big East. As I write this, I’m kind of feeling slightly bad about ripping a guy who did all this…but then I quickly remember how the last month of the season went, and all the questionable at best nonsense that has come out in the last few days. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don’t really feel too bad anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div>As it turns out, Cooley put his house in East Greenwich up for sale 3ish weeks ago, which coincides perfectly with the slump that began for the Friars. The team definitely found out and gave up all hope, and who can blame them? Why bust your ass and play hard for a guy who already made up his mind to sell out and go to a rival school before the season is even over? For someone who always prided himself on professionalism, stepping up and doing the right thing, this is how you are going to leave PC? Take care of business, except when that new job offer is waiting for you. You owed it to this fan base and the kids you recruited to at least give it your all for the rest of this year. This was not a lost season up until 3 weeks ago. This team could have made a run in March Madness but it all went to hell, and it’s a shame. As for the future, it’s also a damn shame that you’re ripping apart this program that you built up. Kids are de-committing already, and apparently some kid from TCU agreed to transfer to Georgetown amazingly quick after the news broke. I know there was a follow up report that it’s not true and the kid hasn’t actually decided, but we all know you brokered that shit to get him to Georgetown while you were still under contract at PC, and that’s shady as hell. That interview you did was bizarre and no one believes a word that you say. “This was my dream job”. “It’s not about the money.” Yeah okay. Do you think we are stupid? Not one fan thinks that Georgetown asked you what you wanted and you did you best Dr. Evil impression and said ‘I want Six MILLIONNN DOLLARS!’ And Georgetown was just like oh okay yeah sure. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfVSb9iI4jOzA6RXJ-MnMwe6ZHCzJiX3LnMR19uOXcKyolZ8-Hr_eGrQsXjDnVcXC7h7PM6rMBZ7roY4kccNIYDPJtMxWpEqQsliRHSZL2Y8l026sTIEYl_F9VNbvYIzJl9_6V0o0R6GMB8f8ooRMfXCNa_rJvW75wv3HJhzLp0lFvum3hX94hKqWDw/s498/7BE852C8-FE40-435A-92C5-B0B96D874ECD.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="498" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfVSb9iI4jOzA6RXJ-MnMwe6ZHCzJiX3LnMR19uOXcKyolZ8-Hr_eGrQsXjDnVcXC7h7PM6rMBZ7roY4kccNIYDPJtMxWpEqQsliRHSZL2Y8l026sTIEYl_F9VNbvYIzJl9_6V0o0R6GMB8f8ooRMfXCNa_rJvW75wv3HJhzLp0lFvum3hX94hKqWDw/s320/7BE852C8-FE40-435A-92C5-B0B96D874ECD.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>We all know you looked up to Georgetown (…and PC) legend John Thompson. I know you’ve mentioned how big of an influence he was and how you wanted to lead a program like him. That’s all well and good Buddy but why couldn’t you have done it here, where you already had something built? Just because you want to be like John Thompson doesn’t mean you have to do it at Georgetown itself. You could’ve had it all here in Providence. You had the path to carve out a nice long career here. You’ll could’ve had a statue out on the Aquinas quad. You could’ve gotten your own line of local pasta or Marinara sauce like Rick Pitino and Buddy Cianci did. There could very well have been a Cooley Center built on Eaton Street. But now? Now you’re just like the rest of them. Pitino, Barnes, and all the rest who simply used PC as a stepping stone. Unlike the others, you were the one to be all proud to be a son of Providence. Coming home to a ‘dream job’ who took great care of you. How many raises did you get from PC? You had it all here and now you’ve taken everything you built up just to go to a rival in the same damn conference. Fans would have been much more understandable had it been a job with Duke or UNC or something like that. Not a program that Patrick Ewing left in a worse state than his own knees. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcZ1TCpCDrfr6MCwZJHzQHqxuWmvteWXKj0ATfzmLda68lejxdpXeyb4ENH6XPZ2sdjREMZVsJYJydyLhVtjuo2G9umIUMYGidn_5rEvNsXjSemcr-Ys7z8aShIUnLnMqNd3m5YXyN84dJVWzGz6AN2CxvTvEcjny-GLc4n4SNAstYJ-nbGZF1bGI7g/s2524/51BEE097-9DE6-437F-BE68-35120FEF34FA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1683" data-original-width="2524" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcZ1TCpCDrfr6MCwZJHzQHqxuWmvteWXKj0ATfzmLda68lejxdpXeyb4ENH6XPZ2sdjREMZVsJYJydyLhVtjuo2G9umIUMYGidn_5rEvNsXjSemcr-Ys7z8aShIUnLnMqNd3m5YXyN84dJVWzGz6AN2CxvTvEcjny-GLc4n4SNAstYJ-nbGZF1bGI7g/s320/51BEE097-9DE6-437F-BE68-35120FEF34FA.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6COLeSZdpg3fNrv91Z8mbqMbuJLmvAYtAwwC1XsNLv1ArIKLvanH_6JWZCMKXjlAQBHwnaHpmuISA4azruf2Bnt5HcPc0ValqRTVcJ95rCmlz6l1nzU7tGpfBw9IbwlLMubiZ5IpJWDx6k6bQGcoP8zbhdMG8mOXigOFz0Q_LtOF-3I4d7sIxk2hMzA/s500/212C4DE3-B67C-4F00-9FD7-F73111A2D2A3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="334" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6COLeSZdpg3fNrv91Z8mbqMbuJLmvAYtAwwC1XsNLv1ArIKLvanH_6JWZCMKXjlAQBHwnaHpmuISA4azruf2Bnt5HcPc0ValqRTVcJ95rCmlz6l1nzU7tGpfBw9IbwlLMubiZ5IpJWDx6k6bQGcoP8zbhdMG8mOXigOFz0Q_LtOF-3I4d7sIxk2hMzA/s320/212C4DE3-B67C-4F00-9FD7-F73111A2D2A3.jpeg" width="214" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>You want to be John Thompson? Best of luck to ya! You’re chasing a legacy that you simply won’t match at Gtown, with a very tall shadow lurking that you won’t be able to escape. I think Thompson himself would be questioning why you’re giving all this up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/W5Uhsxc8R6c" width="320" youtube-src-id="W5Uhsxc8R6c"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The state of Rhode Island has a bit of a Napoleonic Complex. Do not cross us! This place is small but mighty! It’s not all sunshine and Del’s lemonade stands. I cannot wait until the day comes that you come back to the Dunk (Dunk not AMP. I refuse to acknowledge it as the AMP). That place is going to be buzzing. Joe DiMaggio said ‘they can boo as loud as they can cheer’, and you know how loud the Dunk could get during the glory days before you turned your back on everyone. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have to laugh now thinking of that line you always had about the Friars that looked nice on t-shirts:</div><div>Us, We, Together, Family, Friars. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bull. Shit. See you at the Dunk. </div>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-67255747203196092612023-02-09T22:42:00.004-05:002023-02-09T23:53:59.346-05:00Super Bowls, Whoppers and the Renaissance of Pam Anderson<p>The Super Bowl is near! To sum it up short and sweet, this matchup kind of sucks. Philly is a terrible city. I’m sick of Patrick Mahomes, his idiot brother, his douchebag of a tight end and his annoying-ass wife. The only thing I’m rooting for this year will be my various Super Bowl squares, some meme worthy content (never forget Left Shark!), and Rihanna because who doesn’t like Rihanna? Also, I don’t understand why the media is so obsessed with Jason and Travis Kelce’s Mom? Are we as a society really at a point where we are supposed to be obsessed with this woman just because her two sons are good at football? I hope they let her do the coin flip and the entire stadium boos her out of Arizona. Utter nonsense. Anyways! This weekend usually provides some good pop culture content, so I felt the urge to right up a good ol’ fashioned pop culture smorgasbord for old times sake. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjirCOO5eHS7u7GwT22Mjn_C2U8p_7tFBNajsmd-DnmooB1WFnHc1ZLePaeExXQUOl1r1y-ODTtrICfuXK6ApKnxYJEd0V1ZtD3-yZLtH19cPsuc36TV3D5H1wxX4ZJDhorNIrBhxz2Y-GIyKHmk1eDS1sVCllxuuEfABPP-7Ef_TRvX40c_89U7GIJ1g/s474/mom%20kelce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="474" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjirCOO5eHS7u7GwT22Mjn_C2U8p_7tFBNajsmd-DnmooB1WFnHc1ZLePaeExXQUOl1r1y-ODTtrICfuXK6ApKnxYJEd0V1ZtD3-yZLtH19cPsuc36TV3D5H1wxX4ZJDhorNIrBhxz2Y-GIyKHmk1eDS1sVCllxuuEfABPP-7Ef_TRvX40c_89U7GIJ1g/s320/mom%20kelce.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boo this woman!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>There seems to be a certain renaissance of late 90’s and early 00’s superstars here in 2023, and I am all about it. Jennifer Coolidge is a gift from the comedy Gods. Brendan Fraser back in Hollywood is a feel good story, especially with all the weird shit that happened to get him blacklisted by studios. Let’s do him right and get a new Mummy movie. Pam Anderson is once again the baddest bitch on the planet, a title that should never have left her. This is great to see! Icons are icons for a reason. Hell, even Bennifer is back together of J Lo and Affleck…holy shit I hope they make a Gigli 2! Please God make Gigli 2. What could go wrong?!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ER16WVunSXCl1fBHVHO3xurHFe4RfRAn_fNjobR-YjFyWNTXtp0zbxJvzinF_dpOPjc958H0tOeZZRh1k2A3FKKyom3SJ7YxjW_y5CsCCrq6GgMwqwjk56At4sK6ArdzXf7NjxxRXRFJixQl7S21I17oGgNfQIvcNbmXrRHcFuKQZYa7Cv0kiNS2Og/s279/pam%20hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="186" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ER16WVunSXCl1fBHVHO3xurHFe4RfRAn_fNjobR-YjFyWNTXtp0zbxJvzinF_dpOPjc958H0tOeZZRh1k2A3FKKyom3SJ7YxjW_y5CsCCrq6GgMwqwjk56At4sK6ArdzXf7NjxxRXRFJixQl7S21I17oGgNfQIvcNbmXrRHcFuKQZYa7Cv0kiNS2Og/s1600/pam%20hat.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and bring this hat back into style!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>While I’m not the biggest fan of their food, I have to give Burger King their props for their marketing teams. I was obsessed with the creepiness of the BK King in their ads. That magnificent bastard was creepy as all hell yet it would always make me laugh when he popped up out of nowhere. Maybe that says something about me but it’s the truth. Now they have their catchy Whopper Whopper jingles that could and should take home a Grammy next year. They have managed to create something that has instantly gone viral and now covered/remixed by TikTokers. It’s the catchiest song I’ve heard in a while and it shows how important a simple jingle can be. I don’t know about you but if I ever need flooring, I’m rolling with Empire Today because of their ear-virus of a jingle. That stuff works! I hope you all eat like a King who’s on a budget this weekend.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGMBrLzFMWbRUamh1Qs35zToF02wxelX_pHpiHGm9nDoRQ0ds97fD9yBD4fFKo6okvAh7Q461vt80PJXUsPMEx6d33zp0f0AIIe0Rg6Iw3d5YD8ZN0BgTwGzssgX816YBjUpd9mWhubhOx8yCZ9muBCZ9ZOdFL2j-xUF61C8aKF4ABTYF1r395YwFRA/s240/bk%20king%20baffert.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="240" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGMBrLzFMWbRUamh1Qs35zToF02wxelX_pHpiHGm9nDoRQ0ds97fD9yBD4fFKo6okvAh7Q461vt80PJXUsPMEx6d33zp0f0AIIe0Rg6Iw3d5YD8ZN0BgTwGzssgX816YBjUpd9mWhubhOx8yCZ9muBCZ9ZOdFL2j-xUF61C8aKF4ABTYF1r395YwFRA/s1600/bk%20king%20baffert.gif" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Icon seen here with Bob Baffert</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>Are the Charlotte Hornets the most random team in the history of American sports? This dawned on me when thinking about the popularity of the purple and teal starter jackets that randomly everyone owned. You either had a Chicago Bulls (duh), Orlando Magic (Shaq and Penny Hardaway) or a Charlotte Hornets one. The fact that they had an iconic Starter jacket may have been the high water mark for them as a franchise. They haven’t won a playoff series since the 2003/2004 season. Their most famous player had to be Muggsy Bogues, and that was mostly because he was a little fella and got some screen time in Space Jam. Throw in the fact that they moved to New Orleans, then got a new team as the godawful Charlotte Bobcats and then switched back to the Hornets…there’s a lot of weirdness going on there. This has really been weighing on me lately. It’s my slow season at work. Cut me some slack. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvw_cRlipzJ4Mmo5kqo-i98i9Qwy1RdzBoIZV2ji7CMwXGG5fzazFeTLvZi6ANr8ceLamMstZeSCuwvuwrA9CfemO1g1UaW_zFEcjthdxK-r08Rc2DK2-TgrI9B3ZnHrHgUlwKpvBnCHGMGnIM2EduBXFEost33xj12LwZLXA5m_FMPIPtyMqCoNJ12w/s3000/hornets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvw_cRlipzJ4Mmo5kqo-i98i9Qwy1RdzBoIZV2ji7CMwXGG5fzazFeTLvZi6ANr8ceLamMstZeSCuwvuwrA9CfemO1g1UaW_zFEcjthdxK-r08Rc2DK2-TgrI9B3ZnHrHgUlwKpvBnCHGMGnIM2EduBXFEost33xj12LwZLXA5m_FMPIPtyMqCoNJ12w/s320/hornets.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>The Razzies got in trouble for nominating some girl who was like 10 for her performance in some movie I never heard of and people got mad. Meh. If Shirley Temple could win an Oscar, and Macaulay Culkin could make Home Alone and Home Alone 2, this girl could have simply stepped up to the plate and been better. I blame her presumably awful stage Mom. </p><p>UFC head honcho Dana White has a new show called Power Slap where it looks like a bunch of drunk guys who never leave their home town stand still and slap each other in the face. I caught about 24 seconds of an episode while looking for the remote to change the channel, and I felt dirty just glancing at it. This has to be the lamest thing on television, right? There was so much more entertainment in the hallway fights back in high school. Some of those were legitimate battles! I just find it amazing that this show of slap and tickle matches got the green light for a real network deal. We used to be a proper country. Bring back Most Extreme Elimination Challenge already.</p><p>The only bigger head scratcher of a TV show still on has to be the fact that Chrisley Knows Best just kicked off a new season despite Todd and Julie starting their prison sentences. USA Network just acts like nothing has happened and they just love filming all the totally not staged hijinks with the grandma and weirdo kids. I really do think Todd Chrisley’s biggest gripe is that he won’t be allowed to have his face moisturizers in the pen. I cannot wait to see the before and after photos of him when he gets out of prison. You know how they always show pictures side by side of Presidents on their first and last day in office? This has potential to be blow all of those out of the water. I know you can learn to make toilet wine in prison but I’m not sure if anyone has perfected toilet Botox yet. Poor bastard.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI43ZHgpzkpWKyltti0uf7AkLn1G1P2LQJS4cUiLawhVAgs1GaTsrhHSiBnt482s2TNaDmd98tv1u8IQLJA-ZrgIrMm9lPwu0fihtUc7AKb8gwcqH9Ua6XUZQSha7CiyLZGueRQqd01XQC3d7Kt8CN5BqX-8S0TmIcqAZv0Vcr47CcNWad9f_ZZQM34A/s480/todd.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI43ZHgpzkpWKyltti0uf7AkLn1G1P2LQJS4cUiLawhVAgs1GaTsrhHSiBnt482s2TNaDmd98tv1u8IQLJA-ZrgIrMm9lPwu0fihtUc7AKb8gwcqH9Ua6XUZQSha7CiyLZGueRQqd01XQC3d7Kt8CN5BqX-8S0TmIcqAZv0Vcr47CcNWad9f_ZZQM34A/s320/todd.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I bet he'll be saying this quite a few times over the next 12 years.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>People love the notion of Super Bowl commercials even though they seem to be few and far between in terms of quality these days. Not a whole lot really have the staying power that they used to. This whole M+M’s ad campaign about a name change with Maya Rudolph is a waste of time. It seems exactly like the flop of when IHOP tried to jokingly rebrand as IHOB (you know, burgers instead of pancakes). The only noteworthy thing about it is Tucker Carlson getting all hot and bothered over the sexy green M+M and her shoes. That weirdo has got some kind of perverted mind if you ask me! Obsessing over a candy person. Sheesh. His poor wife. Outside of that, I guess the inevitable Ben Affleck Dunkin’ Donuts commercial could have a chance at being an all-timer. Just don’t over-Boston it. It’s played out. The accent jokes are too easy and lame. </p><p>While this blog is all for funsies and the point is to skewer all things pop culture or whatever, may I please pass along my deepest condolences to the legendary Burt Bacharach, cut down in his prime at the tender age of 94 today. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9MsvwRjyAk7WmwW3W_MZyEz69Px1-vpCUB64IdxxT3hVzrGfxVfTASTMhCo6_OjekOJC0pWeG1_VhmMZ-FVTQGPL3XugRv0pLRAAO-qnmx-hvDNmxuDdX7BmOvcyuE17aWlCaq1doFPU2wgAsnGDAimr9InnVqrLR83yykJZBuIsRqk_EdAWgbDIJg/s366/burt.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="366" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9MsvwRjyAk7WmwW3W_MZyEz69Px1-vpCUB64IdxxT3hVzrGfxVfTASTMhCo6_OjekOJC0pWeG1_VhmMZ-FVTQGPL3XugRv0pLRAAO-qnmx-hvDNmxuDdX7BmOvcyuE17aWlCaq1doFPU2wgAsnGDAimr9InnVqrLR83yykJZBuIsRqk_EdAWgbDIJg/s320/burt.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>Your performance in ‘Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery’ and ‘Austin Powers: the Spy Who Shagged Me’ were spellbinding. As a youth, I thought it was the classiest thing in the world to try and woo a woman by hiring Burt Bacharach whilst on top of a double decker bus in Las Vegas. Mr. Bacharach dressed to the nines, tickling the ivories with a candelabra resting on top of his piano, all while drinking champagne on the Vegas strip was the epitome of class. In fact, when I was planning the first date with my girlfriend, I tried to recreate this. I was dismayed to learn that Mr. Bacharach was 91 years old and double decker buses don’t really do a lot of sightseeing in New York City in the first week of February. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEFZLxHAAIx0tmoOMOwq1q9df0z-FjQePKKWxe7EYTu_5DE-O_WJ2-Qw5jS_vqEuDz1gAgu_JB_rKbS0VKNOQs9nalXlVdF9SkgesR4UEJ7ylujj_u29fR42kWgEVKX8F2GpCu1_fw4AC8Kc8Xnnf2nVkbCTQzd3I6n7rL3eXcADo1gna7nc3WfoW8Q/s295/burt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="295" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEFZLxHAAIx0tmoOMOwq1q9df0z-FjQePKKWxe7EYTu_5DE-O_WJ2-Qw5jS_vqEuDz1gAgu_JB_rKbS0VKNOQs9nalXlVdF9SkgesR4UEJ7ylujj_u29fR42kWgEVKX8F2GpCu1_fw4AC8Kc8Xnnf2nVkbCTQzd3I6n7rL3eXcADo1gna7nc3WfoW8Q/s1600/burt2.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><br /><p>Anyways, rest in power, Burt. You brought a lot of joy to my generation via a couple cameos. </p><p><br /></p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-31653640925024923862023-01-17T20:08:00.004-05:002023-01-18T10:26:26.187-05:00Tostitos: Spice Up My Life!<p> I like to consider myself a man of refined taste. I like the finer things in life and one of the finest things that I have enjoyed over the years is salsa con queso. When it comes to salsa con queso, Tostitos is the king. A true titan of the queso industry. Tostitos salsa con queso is something that has always been there for me. In need of an uplifting snack after the work day? Tostitos queso. Need some sustenance after stumbling home drunk from the bar after too many Narragansett tall boys? Tostitos queso. Just overall bored by life’s mundane moments? Tostitos queso. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG2Ltr68wZmTs9hAtXzWCbeQz3fx_jLytaR4cxnTAXf_g2dvHmElZ2NbvnUNTEuC4EcPtegmEkwSPx_TmSq6P6ctwhFiC4Djc0bBsEz1_wKE_Bg70AqY0qTqU4TC8RhqNmwGX4_604uSanty_DGNv_Uw0jOzqdHa4p2TQmz6myjgN-giM2_axzTemUA/s512/queso.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG2Ltr68wZmTs9hAtXzWCbeQz3fx_jLytaR4cxnTAXf_g2dvHmElZ2NbvnUNTEuC4EcPtegmEkwSPx_TmSq6P6ctwhFiC4Djc0bBsEz1_wKE_Bg70AqY0qTqU4TC8RhqNmwGX4_604uSanty_DGNv_Uw0jOzqdHa4p2TQmz6myjgN-giM2_axzTemUA/s320/queso.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">awesomeness in a jar</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Tostitos salsa con queso has brought an absurd amount of joy into my life at literally any hour of the day. It’s mix of cheese with chilies and whatever else is in there is utterly divine. This being said, however, I must admit that here in the year of our lord Twenty Hundred and Twenty Three, I have one small gripe with my beloved Tostitos: I need more heat. Gimme more heat.</p><p>Why be mild when you can get wild, baby! This is the flaming hot generation. I challenge Tostitos to step up and give the good people of the world what they deserve: spicy salsa con queso! In case you didn’t know, their salsa con queso dip is only available in 'medium'. I am not one to mess with perfection, but I do think we can try to advance perfection by also have the spicier alternative available at grocery stores near you. I mean think about it, flaming hot this, flaming hot that. Flaming hot tires, flaming hot air fresheners, flaming hot towels, you name it, flaming hot has taken over and has become a way of life for most people. Shoutout to Cheeto’s for starting this movement, I guess. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAH-8SCx6Jf-BWq_rVEh6U2wbtqF-0EPKzvhsarAF4P4YScoZSbN99bcLzhbOP9_TV148_RXFmQ0bGfi5s5o84qnjDey_4lnhsumoeYzUp0_E7obZxq0Hv-RhpNZbiZcTYXGlH8V_SWqgiH9MvVBliMgZOA5P6nXlX-mpyVpYwcemvnDaag1B5LEk8XA/s450/funyuns2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAH-8SCx6Jf-BWq_rVEh6U2wbtqF-0EPKzvhsarAF4P4YScoZSbN99bcLzhbOP9_TV148_RXFmQ0bGfi5s5o84qnjDey_4lnhsumoeYzUp0_E7obZxq0Hv-RhpNZbiZcTYXGlH8V_SWqgiH9MvVBliMgZOA5P6nXlX-mpyVpYwcemvnDaag1B5LEk8XA/s320/funyuns2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mean if even Funyuns can get flaming hot...</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Tostitos already has their spicy habanero salsa, quite tasty may I add, so why not up the ante on the queso as well? What could go wrong? Your so sales go so far through the roof that you may need to pay for a new one? This is a no-brainer. You already have the chip and dip industry in a chokehold. Now is the time to give the industry a stone cold stunner and finish the job. I believe that this is one of the few things that everyone in this country can actually agree on. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONBFq0HNm-BJveljchRZl-JdHH58cOgdQ_pgxDrUtBWTzKiieEG6VMIgrMawv59Azfc5nIcad20L8tseZfs4DI0lA8B25H99bbMNYqYr3ev8DOMZJICnhQs8JX202c-Ldtpn51IX_yMHI7ITySl1w3caDVTUlfKIA8-68yjL4SMd97hZDg0BdeM5qhA/s2000/theeee.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONBFq0HNm-BJveljchRZl-JdHH58cOgdQ_pgxDrUtBWTzKiieEG6VMIgrMawv59Azfc5nIcad20L8tseZfs4DI0lA8B25H99bbMNYqYr3ev8DOMZJICnhQs8JX202c-Ldtpn51IX_yMHI7ITySl1w3caDVTUlfKIA8-68yjL4SMd97hZDg0BdeM5qhA/s320/theeee.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meg thy stallion knows flaming hot is the trend</td></tr></tbody></table><p>As a very proud queso connoisseur (…quesonoisseur? May need to workshop this one) it is time to begin a new movement. I hope this blog not only finds Tostitos well, but it gives someone with a lot of brains the idea to pitch to the big board meeting next week or whatever. We deserve more spice in our life! My honest wish is that by the Super Bowl 2024, I will be able to heat up a nice big bowl of Tostitos Spicy Salsa Con Queso, rip open a bag of Tostitos scoops and have myself one hell of a day. It won’t even matter who’s playing or how much money I’ll have lost on various bets. As long as spicy salsa con queso is around, I’ll feel like a winner. </p><p>Make it happen, people! Let the movement begin! </p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-15480645073645797192022-12-28T17:37:00.006-05:002022-12-28T18:12:26.101-05:00No. Turnstile Didn’t Sell Out, Dummy<p>Nacho fries are back at Taco Bell. How do I know that? I was on my iPad playing Mario Kart when I almost snapped my neck looking up at my TV when the opening riff to Turnstile’s smash hit ‘Holiday’ hit my earbuds. Hearing Turnstile is always an honor and a pleasure, but I must admit I was caught off guard when it was for a Taco Bell commercial. It was unexpected but awesome. Kinda like watching the Muppets and Gonzo dropping an f-bomb. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1HC7AUJRaiQiSd18YCf9iTcPQ0er68GXiysHKYZsOQCeT9CehbVQ_mmYldEjLi-kraewUQjnYCST6onUnrkZy4lnT8W93UDzVJnqy_utmHrhTdjuyNe2hrBnoPY4Jew69hNTDNruJb6NqpKsDjPq_EGUl8dgHALvu02xMVpYGraXrPr8wvZahfuDPA/s400/fuck-the-muppet-show.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="400" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1HC7AUJRaiQiSd18YCf9iTcPQ0er68GXiysHKYZsOQCeT9CehbVQ_mmYldEjLi-kraewUQjnYCST6onUnrkZy4lnT8W93UDzVJnqy_utmHrhTdjuyNe2hrBnoPY4Jew69hNTDNruJb6NqpKsDjPq_EGUl8dgHALvu02xMVpYGraXrPr8wvZahfuDPA/s320/fuck-the-muppet-show.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">close enough!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Taco Bell is chill. I appreciate their ‘live mas’ attitude. Taco Bell even tries to make people care about baseball with their annual steal a base, steal a taco promotion. I’d say the Turnstile fan base likes to live mas as well. Crank some Turnstile while enjoying a nice cheesy gordita crunch with a Baja blast to wash it down and you are living the dream my friend. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcNT8jB_iJ_z_IOvDCHOt0GXdTYejxVQbqjWXLsbTpZoGOIOPLRz9DHHs7ADxiOsxBP9DslR5Uq47XDtb7ZZeNJo4ZFakiV4QG8q7YuQl5XIS5rXRlLmgbkOputhbWP9WL6dK-YSDyXqWw1BjBYxpgWfWq8KyPhN6fPKOTARb_fs6_nIWYz6FXzIjN1w/s691/live%20mas.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="460" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcNT8jB_iJ_z_IOvDCHOt0GXdTYejxVQbqjWXLsbTpZoGOIOPLRz9DHHs7ADxiOsxBP9DslR5Uq47XDtb7ZZeNJo4ZFakiV4QG8q7YuQl5XIS5rXRlLmgbkOputhbWP9WL6dK-YSDyXqWw1BjBYxpgWfWq8KyPhN6fPKOTARb_fs6_nIWYz6FXzIjN1w/s320/live%20mas.webp" width="213" /></a></div><p>This is where I want to take my head and pound it against a wall for a good hour: people immediately arguing if Turnstile “sold out” by lending their music to a fucking Taco Bell commercial. </p><p>What year is it? I know people long for the nostalgia of the 90’s, but one thing that can stay the hell back in the old days is the notion that bands sell out over trying to make a few bucks when they get an offer. People need to calm the hell down. It’s not like they have the AFLAC duck emblazoned on their drum kit or commercials for Subway play between songs at their live shows. Band tees that feature a Toyota logo would suck, but I don’t exactly see that happening anywhere. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsoQt-hTyjvqCCbtjGAF156R08sDAvpMFlkaeMnFglJShkGNjq-4Wzr1xzeQuqK-0OI3A8inXCd2uXbVCcPz9c_x2wozltWSCRg0aTiOxaBBnffzEey9299VHI8l722cqt2DaN-iBWXDYS86WVo3UcxUO_wMCbtnQ8bLrlVBLJWfuyrGu4fYWN4yKgHw/s1760/turnstile2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="1760" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsoQt-hTyjvqCCbtjGAF156R08sDAvpMFlkaeMnFglJShkGNjq-4Wzr1xzeQuqK-0OI3A8inXCd2uXbVCcPz9c_x2wozltWSCRg0aTiOxaBBnffzEey9299VHI8l722cqt2DaN-iBWXDYS86WVo3UcxUO_wMCbtnQ8bLrlVBLJWfuyrGu4fYWN4yKgHw/s320/turnstile2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>This is like the millennial version of an old person yelling at a cloud. I find it nauseating that people allow themselves to get upset over the fact that someone wanted to pay Turnstile some money for a commercial and they said yeah sure. Why don’t people complain about soundtracks? Bands get paid for that stuff too. No one says The Rolling Stones sold out for Gimme Shelter appearing in every single movie trailer ever made. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-t2X2y_wW0f4OezS7GYn5dYh_cVbstV6JPrwbR3njD94_R3R9FTdsys2OVc00awBmiAxTOiUIgm1EFWEga0OjkxK0jdykdq7btGwQanrTWaNTSQfKyNF0_CAJTB9lhv6-GvIuNcaonA5XLa14zZ-m57o_Riy6feXZqrnByhv0n93lPiNPaOMoC9Mnw/s4032/turnstile1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-t2X2y_wW0f4OezS7GYn5dYh_cVbstV6JPrwbR3njD94_R3R9FTdsys2OVc00awBmiAxTOiUIgm1EFWEga0OjkxK0jdykdq7btGwQanrTWaNTSQfKyNF0_CAJTB9lhv6-GvIuNcaonA5XLa14zZ-m57o_Riy6feXZqrnByhv0n93lPiNPaOMoC9Mnw/s320/turnstile1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>It especially grinds my gears seeing people complain on Twitter, bandying about selling out and shit when they are most likely the same people who haven’t even bought any merch, albums, cds, concert tickets or anything. The most they do is listen to them on Spotify or Apple Music which pays about 0.00001 cent for every play and think they are doing their part and Turnstile should cater to THEIR wishes and demands. </p><p>Turnstile is finishing up one of the best years any band has had in a long time. The ‘Glow On’ tour was an epic success (I was blessed by them at the first night of the two Boston shows and they kicked so much ass live it was incredible). They just got nominated for multiple Grammy awards. They have been making the late night circuit. Everything is turning up Turnstile, and that’s great to see. Holy shit, imagine that! Feeling happy for a band that you like!!! Wow! What a novel notion! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzUoi0DX4D3DejspG77eByE7jpqQNaxaA07bdr3hMd8smuuK43QOz85MLuIG7oeLjJ8NGNXBpYk8-LKHqN0vA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p>If you really are bothered by this, find help. I simply don’t understand being upset for a band you (allegedly) appreciate obtain some financial success. There guys need to make money to live their lives just like you do. Do you really not understand that this is their job? I bet no one reading this goes to work every day making zero money. I’ll tell you this, if they didn’t make any money doing this, Turnstile would have to get day jobs which would then mean fewer shows and albums and songs and hey look no more Turnstile. I can’t believe this is still a topic that needs to be discussed in 2022 because I am just so incensed that people still have this old fashion way of thinking. If you like a band or musician, support them. And don’t get all angry if they are offered some money for a commercial. It’s 2022, no one pays for cds anymore. We can all grow up and accept this. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZ8astBADRdnbyYXObWcMK4queDL8k25W4XETHfyi90a8iGvxW4g3YR9e9WHUmxtjIj5KdgdZCcsDhqgXVx4a3s37GE-Xzz6KU4oOE64PJD3dLkwx97dMuCrzuyGcATFcIqpWGrssLmv7TSAkQL49R4ZyQB3LpQVKiq5cJ4mkEjDY4VfXDotwVuT0Lg/s4032/nacho%20fries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZ8astBADRdnbyYXObWcMK4queDL8k25W4XETHfyi90a8iGvxW4g3YR9e9WHUmxtjIj5KdgdZCcsDhqgXVx4a3s37GE-Xzz6KU4oOE64PJD3dLkwx97dMuCrzuyGcATFcIqpWGrssLmv7TSAkQL49R4ZyQB3LpQVKiq5cJ4mkEjDY4VfXDotwVuT0Lg/s320/nacho%20fries.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turnstile sent me!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>We, as a society, need to give up on the selling out bullshit. You should be more concerned if a band completely changes a sound or message. If Turnstile’s next album went full on country pop and every song was bout a different fast food chain, well okay we can discuss that.</p><p>I, for one, hope that Turnstile makes millions because they are tremendous. I also hope this deal with Taco Bell got them all a lifetime supply of Mexican pizzas. They deserve it!</p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-2805501211470987982022-10-23T22:33:00.003-04:002022-10-23T22:33:31.299-04:00Album Review: Arctic Monkeys 'The Car'<p> Oh no. </p><p>That was my reaction to the first 2 seconds of the Arctic Monkeys lead single 'There'd Better Be A Mirrorball' off of their new album 'The Car'. Right off the bat I just knew it was going to be just like their last album, Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, and that's not a good thing. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmVUIeLFKsCbvDOK0jQtpNO-8Y3oc-tj6bcNonZ0Ei7fqeglhH0BdESgK6NsWtpaDy0kg-G9ExoDpZR5UvdLtYygyN0UadrIOt-3rZ_tbWpu8XEJk54vhA6WoESNyxsOEb5BpdMbHq7218tlzb0p2S7ZfI0nJQAFcnExqcBNkcmusuNxbJ8BCYPf85g/s672/the%20car.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="672" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmVUIeLFKsCbvDOK0jQtpNO-8Y3oc-tj6bcNonZ0Ei7fqeglhH0BdESgK6NsWtpaDy0kg-G9ExoDpZR5UvdLtYygyN0UadrIOt-3rZ_tbWpu8XEJk54vhA6WoESNyxsOEb5BpdMbHq7218tlzb0p2S7ZfI0nJQAFcnExqcBNkcmusuNxbJ8BCYPf85g/s320/the%20car.webp" width="320" /></a></div><p>I love the Arctic Monkeys, I really do. Their first 4 albums were simply delightful. They have great, witty lyrics and, what I appreciate the most, insanely catchy guitar riffs. TBHC came out in 2018 and it felt like their first whiff, yet it still sold well (in this day and age). This album? Yikes. </p><p>I appreciate Alex Turner and company reinventing themselves for each albums. Over the years they've been young partying hotshots, greasy biker dudes, smooth leather jacket wearing badasses, and even with TBHC they went all in on some sort of bizarre hotel in outer space. Sadly, the album felt like they were trying to make music fit for a Heineken or Stella Artois ad. It was a total snoozefest. They got a pass with the last album do they another reinventing of themselves, but The Car is a copycat of the last album, and that ain't a good thing. Nothing is exciting about this album outside of the song titles. At least those are kinda creative and fun. 'Jet Skis on the Moat' should be the title of an absolute party anthem. It's a damn shame the song belongs at a funeral home. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59U3JetTrg2wINp4zI9ZM-MoouCt07lCOzVpxEllvSbCLRMgcPnkN0zWYR0-S9YMkzLsPy0HMqErQU0BWoIPFhxZpGg2Ac4EhXkAKDI0Z3HxwBTveM7SXm4uHL3l5YjIAOGoIsUqLPKOA_-zHhh2KG17uLVwdL_v8Rqepgc0o-dOMuD0mgRbVhg_GAw/s500/arctic-monkeys_oasis.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="500" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59U3JetTrg2wINp4zI9ZM-MoouCt07lCOzVpxEllvSbCLRMgcPnkN0zWYR0-S9YMkzLsPy0HMqErQU0BWoIPFhxZpGg2Ac4EhXkAKDI0Z3HxwBTveM7SXm4uHL3l5YjIAOGoIsUqLPKOA_-zHhh2KG17uLVwdL_v8Rqepgc0o-dOMuD0mgRbVhg_GAw/s320/arctic-monkeys_oasis.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>I will admit it's hard to stay mad at them since they are still one of the coolest bands on the planet, but: they need to quit the 70's lounge act shit. Why are you singing in this weird style? Stop it. You sound like a Saturday Night Live skit parodying the Arctic Monkeys. We need the rock and roll saviors that they appeared to be up until 2018. Make more songs that would look fitting for an episode of Peaky Blinders. I can't really picture Tommy Shelby walking the mean streets of Small Heath to 'Body Paint'. You had a great thing going! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKasDkQP2ZWlkV7kLWCtH0bxxtrHoQh5zGAk-IFW2WPBuW5rWubLIWSEmM5wSmSU9IqlYV3OWtmT2jSsYxOStY0XCVx3b-2h9ePPioOcmvKsqxoVhScw0tFr-eOeyCVFZkXWOT0N_JxrQeSsauKYD0NPuwAucAJPfcjTMS0fhaY8S71PDsFudlS6IZXQ/s245/monkeys2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="130" data-original-width="245" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKasDkQP2ZWlkV7kLWCtH0bxxtrHoQh5zGAk-IFW2WPBuW5rWubLIWSEmM5wSmSU9IqlYV3OWtmT2jSsYxOStY0XCVx3b-2h9ePPioOcmvKsqxoVhScw0tFr-eOeyCVFZkXWOT0N_JxrQeSsauKYD0NPuwAucAJPfcjTMS0fhaY8S71PDsFudlS6IZXQ/s1600/monkeys2.gif" width="245" /></a></div><br /><p>The big problem with The Car is that it is incredibly slow. There's nothing wrong with slow songs. In fact, the Arctic Monkeys have their fair share of very good slow songs: 505, Cornerstone, no.1 Party Anthem are all absolute gems. All of them are still catchy and you will find yourself singing along to them at a show or in your own car sitting in traffic without even realizing it. This album is like they are trying to become the leaders in elevator rock music. There is so little drumming on this album (and the last one to be honest) that it makes a lot of sense that drummer Matt Helders had time to focus on his photography career. His cover art photo of a car on a rooftop parking garage is the most useful thing he contributed. Not saying it's his own fault because Alex Turner seems to be the band leader and visionary but good grief, let's pick it up a bit gang!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4uAtlfdZsv5b0KsrHwGpSCs5OCvEQDVdDvP3KG4stwiQuykrBmBDcxsK_zkNHrwLa37xl5GaeQUKSufLlwWnnl5dC3bbGEJrihPBYellzqqb9qBxP4hftxgHHzrmNmHiQrpFSxgv3f5BrImWA381zisJWV0Mk10BxdSzr6XY5FI5bRDcN4MF8j0gzg/s498/monkeys3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="498" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4uAtlfdZsv5b0KsrHwGpSCs5OCvEQDVdDvP3KG4stwiQuykrBmBDcxsK_zkNHrwLa37xl5GaeQUKSufLlwWnnl5dC3bbGEJrihPBYellzqqb9qBxP4hftxgHHzrmNmHiQrpFSxgv3f5BrImWA381zisJWV0Mk10BxdSzr6XY5FI5bRDcN4MF8j0gzg/s320/monkeys3.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>This was really frustrating because everyone who listens to the Arctic Monkeys know that they have the capabilities to turn out another great rock album. I'm not giving up on them and you shouldn't either. Maybe Alex Turner was pissed that the last album wasn't viewed as another work of his genius and tried to double down on The Car. I don't know. We could've used another great rock album and instead...garbage was made. The best part of listening to The Car on Spotify is that you can quickly click on their artist page and throw on I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor or R U Mine? I recommend giving it a full listen through the once and then go back and listen to any of their first four albums to make yourself feel better (or to wake up). I haven't had this bad an experience with a car since I totaled my mom's 1999 Dodge Intrepid. </p><p>Here's hoping Alex Turner is motivated to rock our socks off on the next one. </p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-4038415565560488822022-10-17T22:27:00.001-04:002022-10-17T22:27:12.208-04:00Ticketmaster Can Go Fuck Itself!<p> About a week ago, aging pop-punk and emo enthusiasts got some great news: Blink-182 was bringing back Tom DeLonge. The not quite original but definitely most beloved lineup of Blink told us they were back, complete with a new album, a song release (it's decent!) and most importantly, a massive world tour in 2023. </p><p>Of course in this day of the internet, many made jokes about the age of the current fans blah blah blah. Some were decent, most were not even remotely humorous but whatever. It didn't rain on the parade of a proper Blink tour with the band back together (Sorry Matt Skiba). I don't think it's crazy to say that people of my generation still adore Blink. I'm 32 and they were like kings to my friends and I growing up. Mark Hoppus is like the Tom Hanks of Pop Punk, he's like a scene father figure to us! All three of the guys are beloved, and still keeping on everyone's radar. Travis Barker has produced like 33 trillion things, and married the only Kardashian that is worth a damn (also the one with the least amount of plastic in her). Mark whooped cancer's ass. Shit, Tom even managed to get the US government to admit that Aliens do in fact exist, because of his own research. God bless these three! They all have been thriving on their own, but everyone knows when they are together, full Voltron mode, they are the best.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP425c3r6EbJ42Im4kYHMUFLaF1YEjYRCEPAczk6i8IxVCRTTQiwKpK6Go97Lot6IyezDf9EdviXaguApsQz-jRzyDfn6HBPOXFDlrV2XBz5GoHV0QlclO8U8nxAiclK3gOn7Dar1AlFAdJMSTYHoZaEziwTy1kzBCw5Rg6IJn3b6vH2wLc1A4zRvGbg/s480/what%20the.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="480" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP425c3r6EbJ42Im4kYHMUFLaF1YEjYRCEPAczk6i8IxVCRTTQiwKpK6Go97Lot6IyezDf9EdviXaguApsQz-jRzyDfn6HBPOXFDlrV2XBz5GoHV0QlclO8U8nxAiclK3gOn7Dar1AlFAdJMSTYHoZaEziwTy1kzBCw5Rg6IJn3b6vH2wLc1A4zRvGbg/s320/what%20the.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hope Mark finds that as a compliment!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>A massive added bonus to the tour was the addition of the increasingly popular Turnstile, along with the legendary Rise Against (excellent band live, from what I remember from, like, 2009) and The Story So Far. That is one stacked tour for anyone who still likes guitars. This had the making for the tour of the year.</p><p>Then this morning happened. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9OUmFMnCfGpZPONQR8eOMZdz3sPzZSeqPpYCFsdPJzw0a4FjK3fqS6e5WSgXcSYF-zS3G-FTfe7idrl7xScFP-CnP-97Wno6PvoO_hVUbcnP_3y5HYSszCQtgOrqnX-IqLTktEu6qOUH-2wYNw2q9iDyAutkFl9s9yRp7Ou_wET_LJWGOAlZirIUpg/s400/tom%20wtf.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9OUmFMnCfGpZPONQR8eOMZdz3sPzZSeqPpYCFsdPJzw0a4FjK3fqS6e5WSgXcSYF-zS3G-FTfe7idrl7xScFP-CnP-97Wno6PvoO_hVUbcnP_3y5HYSszCQtgOrqnX-IqLTktEu6qOUH-2wYNw2q9iDyAutkFl9s9yRp7Ou_wET_LJWGOAlZirIUpg/s320/tom%20wtf.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>Holy shit. What a disaster. </p><p>For anyone who has seen Peaky Blinders, there is a point in season 1 where Tommy Shelby explains the "soldier's minute". That one final stretch of calmness before the storm. It lasts seemingly forever and it oozes with tension of what is going to happen next. I felt that as the clock hit 9:59 am. Patient as ever, I waited out that minute only to be told that I was in a waiting room with over 2,000+ people trying to get tickets to the Boston Garden show next May. This part made sense, whatever. Not a surprise. What was surprising was being so incredibly victimized by Ticketmaster's "dynamic pricing". When I finally was allowed to go looking for tickets at about 10:25, my jaw damn near broke from looking at the prices. $1,000 for floor seats. $500 and up (before fees of course) for lower bowl, and even close to $400 for the nosebleeds up in the balcony level. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNQRE5cxDwXzUSd9yE9wHRpekTLYOM-WGwh_ISk8ICtNvChR4kP5fM_gTP2ReXLeFdeDChemhHb1ci032pY2VpcWVbKmDcgSs8pzVxPc7FXzTjaR5gjU854lTkUbB4j9xXj9US5h_fOSD3YuCVYF_0Idb1YpUc-gD9tqW7G488h8af-tMpM2ThGJSKQ/s1334/ticket%20prices.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNQRE5cxDwXzUSd9yE9wHRpekTLYOM-WGwh_ISk8ICtNvChR4kP5fM_gTP2ReXLeFdeDChemhHb1ci032pY2VpcWVbKmDcgSs8pzVxPc7FXzTjaR5gjU854lTkUbB4j9xXj9US5h_fOSD3YuCVYF_0Idb1YpUc-gD9tqW7G488h8af-tMpM2ThGJSKQ/s320/ticket%20prices.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><p>Ticketmaster. Absolutely. Blows. </p><p>They try to argue that "dynamic pricing" will cut out scalpers but then the prices get absurd because of the demand for the tickets....right when they go on sale...as if...a bunch of people aren't going to try to get them right when they go on sale....instead of going to scalpers....I don't care what bullshit excuse they try to use. These prices are just insane. They should bring back box offices at this point. Everyone knows the stupid fees we all get overcharged which don't make sense. "Handling fees" for e-tickets that don't have to be printed out. "Service fees" and "tax fees", go screw. Back in simpler times, you'd swallow the stupid fees, shrug it off and say eh okay it is what it is. These prices? No thanks. I'm not going to pay for prices that rival my half of the monthly rent for a somewhat decent seat. I absoultely loathe Ticketmaster. They are pure evil. I think even employees at the DMV would be in awe of how poor Ticketmaster treats their customers. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DsgxwLuleFN2u4EZLlltSfy_PjXGZd0BNz2A9qxeSMt7HnyQF5ot7lQDbeIxw3yiLgDcvLHxCTTw8_Hi8I27I0Hf_xX7QCvApH_fFq9dwOFHtH7qFuyqMtmZetpCZXaOTi-lCBEEEIlA8oTfGEriX-mzFp8fuj7WzL4KS1SZj1LRof9aLP9fsipVRA/s750/nurse%20moneybags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="750" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DsgxwLuleFN2u4EZLlltSfy_PjXGZd0BNz2A9qxeSMt7HnyQF5ot7lQDbeIxw3yiLgDcvLHxCTTw8_Hi8I27I0Hf_xX7QCvApH_fFq9dwOFHtH7qFuyqMtmZetpCZXaOTi-lCBEEEIlA8oTfGEriX-mzFp8fuj7WzL4KS1SZj1LRof9aLP9fsipVRA/s320/nurse%20moneybags.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>They try to say this "dynamic pricing" is a way to curb scalpers but I really don't want to hear it. I have never dealt with prices like this when they go right on sale. Face value prices don't exist anymore. They have gone the way of the Dodo bird. This bullshit by Ticketmaster has jumped the shark. Egregious is too weak of a word for it. Anyone who works for them should be ashamed. They probably all clap when their airplane lands. I truly want this company to fail so badly. You know if they are pulling this shit already, it's just going to get worse and worse. </p><p>What should be a super fun tour of the year, feel good reunion for an entire generation of people is now just a frustrating reminder that makes you say "Well I guess this is growing up."</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQatZrLDFWOo1FucNAG7XZo_o8SICDwcEzSxPH2HGa_O7y8RQe6xOKGjOc8mW25m8VKpfzCDCiLgZsVn2jMOZcinWFdbpHfi9ed09yVQv39NS1p1h3vR0imhTIdyB8hVPPylP91CihB70vofBlRNUuNZdTx4ci3ycXJfD8quE512Nt0V0pfIEHN5l4w/s492/where%20do%20we%20go.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="492" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQatZrLDFWOo1FucNAG7XZo_o8SICDwcEzSxPH2HGa_O7y8RQe6xOKGjOc8mW25m8VKpfzCDCiLgZsVn2jMOZcinWFdbpHfi9ed09yVQv39NS1p1h3vR0imhTIdyB8hVPPylP91CihB70vofBlRNUuNZdTx4ci3ycXJfD8quE512Nt0V0pfIEHN5l4w/s320/where%20do%20we%20go.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Ticketmaster can go fuck itself. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvsklvccmEU3EmaR53C08pki4ePd_agk_Xr66nJEY7ijHB9hvWfrq2zzwtWJx6XN9hfuigO6B5DKD9z4XUdpxCF7Xodj86X6LTeA3yWlYqmlvpiSZw2nOachaX8VRyEmCIHb_c3axcMNMQxfvyLjg-S8cePCZrON_g-rqVWzQU_tuQpMNnG1nrORLTQ/s500/say%20it%20aint%20so.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="500" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvsklvccmEU3EmaR53C08pki4ePd_agk_Xr66nJEY7ijHB9hvWfrq2zzwtWJx6XN9hfuigO6B5DKD9z4XUdpxCF7Xodj86X6LTeA3yWlYqmlvpiSZw2nOachaX8VRyEmCIHb_c3axcMNMQxfvyLjg-S8cePCZrON_g-rqVWzQU_tuQpMNnG1nrORLTQ/s320/say%20it%20aint%20so.gif" width="320" /></a></div>Count me out, folks!<br /><p><br /></p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-70719581018085140882022-10-02T20:52:00.001-04:002022-10-02T20:52:40.800-04:00Musings in Traffic on Route 1 in Southern New England<p>I was sitting in traffic the other day thinking about the now classic John Mullaney bit where he talks about how he thought that quicksand would be a big problem in his future. He had a great point! I thought about other things like that which I definitely thought, as a youth, that would be problematic in my future: surviving an avalanche, having to trudge through sewers, getting chased by mummies, you know, your typical Scooby-Doo type of situation. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7d4hciKgcu5KmkNNb9VB04jgh75Eq1vAuy29B0Xf8ysbc5iWTvT3-WLIfNWeVAU_p86AitLlfh0KPHq-R6Fr0LJORIwPyuY63gSOR8_xFbRtD5Z8x7s9IAnFG1dOOU0lEJ6jWdcfkcTw3HNU9DRsDbqWPD04zlhQbfr1cKJ4qJ4XEHVqMYLJWyyvFNg/s240/mummy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="240" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7d4hciKgcu5KmkNNb9VB04jgh75Eq1vAuy29B0Xf8ysbc5iWTvT3-WLIfNWeVAU_p86AitLlfh0KPHq-R6Fr0LJORIwPyuY63gSOR8_xFbRtD5Z8x7s9IAnFG1dOOU0lEJ6jWdcfkcTw3HNU9DRsDbqWPD04zlhQbfr1cKJ4qJ4XEHVqMYLJWyyvFNg/s1600/mummy.gif" width="240" /></a></div><p>None of these issues have proven to be a problem in my adult life. Instead things like having to call someone to set up a haircut, dealing with flight delays and paying taxes are. If you ask me, give me the Scooby-Doo bullshit! They may be more dangerous but at least they are slightly more exciting. Adulthood is kinda tame after all. What is not tame? A random blogpost about nothing-ness on this Sunday afternoon where I was supposed to be hanging out in Florida this weekend (thanks Ian, you dick). </p><p>It's a wonderful time of year for sports. The NFL is in full swing, both the NHL and the NBA are starting very shortly, and the MLB playoffs are about to begin. I still love baseball, and it's nice not having to care about the Boston Red Sox anymore. Those guys stink. I have many gripes with the Red Sox but I will keep things more broad and give you:</p><p><b><u>The Breakfast at Jimothy's 3 Things That Really Grinds My Gears in Sports (TBAJ3TTRGMGIS)</u></b></p><p>1. Logos on jerseys. C'mon now what are we doing here? I know this is a big soccer thing, but this ain't Europe. It just feels like such a cheap way for multibillion dollar franchises to make another chunk of change over selling their souls. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj296WF-vepEpmM6EMiM8QVSZt-GpptZyNcD5sbeduLMNCnJVOD-btvcxEQZrDPpSrncIZDu1cIlCZFAHEEyIfdGX-FD8qjtHpHuXnYzUvW20GFRB9RbcquOUFDbJ1lb6XSZYoEGWhi0aLg2UySUZ2s0yP7S5Ghn5WR1_x-4Hppf3-lRxKsdeD8WxSL7w/s1280/penguins%20jersey%20ad.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj296WF-vepEpmM6EMiM8QVSZt-GpptZyNcD5sbeduLMNCnJVOD-btvcxEQZrDPpSrncIZDu1cIlCZFAHEEyIfdGX-FD8qjtHpHuXnYzUvW20GFRB9RbcquOUFDbJ1lb6XSZYoEGWhi0aLg2UySUZ2s0yP7S5Ghn5WR1_x-4Hppf3-lRxKsdeD8WxSL7w/s320/penguins%20jersey%20ad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Don't they make enough with price gouging with $15.75 (looking at you TD Garden)? No fan enjoys having a shitty logo ruining a nice looking jersey. Don't even get me started on classic jerseys like the Maple Leafs, Celtics, Yankees...I even feel bad that the Milwaukee Bucks have a stupid Harley Davidson patch on their weird unis. Pathetic!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMeu8-SOeJNjUXuW3f6uShoOPTiKAN-M5yn-4A9IWtFAfjgG9aUfAJkxsfPGaSpzs-xjabnU_ziCSx2eZUQl3R5r2li6XfrorvDfJeorvZmmdHB1lJV8HDk_dBpp7P5Qu7JYU6z0TdJ6qghB72qbqYL2GbMT-uy1c3xUojGSGpw6R8K9qm-x-Pb2sXqA/s1136/bucks%20harley.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1136" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMeu8-SOeJNjUXuW3f6uShoOPTiKAN-M5yn-4A9IWtFAfjgG9aUfAJkxsfPGaSpzs-xjabnU_ziCSx2eZUQl3R5r2li6XfrorvDfJeorvZmmdHB1lJV8HDk_dBpp7P5Qu7JYU6z0TdJ6qghB72qbqYL2GbMT-uy1c3xUojGSGpw6R8K9qm-x-Pb2sXqA/s320/bucks%20harley.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sadly, this is one of the cooler ads on a jersey :-(</td></tr></tbody></table><p>2. Athletes who insist on saying they are "honing their craft". Ooooooh GOD. The douche-chills that just ran up my spine typing that out almost made me pass out. I feel like this first made it on my radar from that idiot Kyrie Irving. To be fair, everything that dope does makes me want to shake my head. Between claiming the earth is flat, the fact he turned down $100 million to stay unvaccinated, burning sage on the Boston Celtics court before his first game back there, everything he does is douchey. Him talking about "honing his craft" in regards to playing fucking basketball is just the absolute worst. Even more infuriating is that I've heard other players like LeBron James talk about it to. You are not carving a flute out of some wise-looking oak tree. You are putting a ball through a cylinder. You are not as important as you think you are. Stop it!</p><p>3. Fox Sports insisting on using those creepy cartoon graphics. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1t2IHwIqYuOTO_Q7YVMIGU036yEuCQv7IxAzsNhw7xatybRSm9CL3NKF5mCKMQTbm81VYS5ULpLmThjRB0rPRzPkEHGWh5u79vkHlQASBN8yOdIGnSn7rLsmV4Q6K5UOHGaHOhFKTlHbN6hgJoeXZybp3TDhkSfTiY3UXjJqCot39Jc3DlkGF_sPYg/s686/mahomes%20drawing.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="686" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1t2IHwIqYuOTO_Q7YVMIGU036yEuCQv7IxAzsNhw7xatybRSm9CL3NKF5mCKMQTbm81VYS5ULpLmThjRB0rPRzPkEHGWh5u79vkHlQASBN8yOdIGnSn7rLsmV4Q6K5UOHGaHOhFKTlHbN6hgJoeXZybp3TDhkSfTiY3UXjJqCot39Jc3DlkGF_sPYg/s320/mahomes%20drawing.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This drawing has more personality than Jackson Mahomes</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I just don't understand it. Who thought this was going to be a good idea? Was anyone clamoring for this besides the graphic designer nephew of some Fox executive who was looking for some work? One thing that is amusing is that Tom Brady keeps on getting plastic surgery to make him more and more like his cartoon character. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYN1Ead9YX4bfzSvQFTdkBNPHduu0FOiSJktbVtygKgf-rqFJdKzypYUUOdIVgQeV142Gfoh6JImxWxDMZHQoxNzlprhBjT1Y96BMVl9AU_pwZdrc7EiZh27PoDAzDQU1fzzS0e7Y_NzcsQtwHa-TqUVlCwhR6TtvGBJx8Pw-UXRrUQutaHCff68xIgQ/s650/brady%20rodgers%20cartoon.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="284" data-original-width="650" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYN1Ead9YX4bfzSvQFTdkBNPHduu0FOiSJktbVtygKgf-rqFJdKzypYUUOdIVgQeV142Gfoh6JImxWxDMZHQoxNzlprhBjT1Y96BMVl9AU_pwZdrc7EiZh27PoDAzDQU1fzzS0e7Y_NzcsQtwHa-TqUVlCwhR6TtvGBJx8Pw-UXRrUQutaHCff68xIgQ/s320/brady%20rodgers%20cartoon.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Insufferable!</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Other than that, it is simply useless. If you ask me, Fox should have kept the football Transformers:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijV0KYRvy9cLvuXQniEDtjWcyggKft2KrXxBfwroj02J1bGwRZGbyboPckm_Kdvk2fefFKM5-PZQsXEjXmBA4pW4CToyvAGZx96NNc5bfp4Gdre9nRww4ZB8t5pTUQz7k_lXHcr6nOvBTofQiLQps3ya7uyyEjDYK2rEd-LNWpog8UwFIcOH3rR03n4w/s220/fox%20nfl%20robot.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="124" data-original-width="220" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijV0KYRvy9cLvuXQniEDtjWcyggKft2KrXxBfwroj02J1bGwRZGbyboPckm_Kdvk2fefFKM5-PZQsXEjXmBA4pW4CToyvAGZx96NNc5bfp4Gdre9nRww4ZB8t5pTUQz7k_lXHcr6nOvBTofQiLQps3ya7uyyEjDYK2rEd-LNWpog8UwFIcOH3rR03n4w/w400-h225/fox%20nfl%20robot.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A crowd pleaser.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>So I know I have been vocal about the influx of movie remakes and tv reboots that seem to be taking over Hollywood recently. I think it stinks. Let's get some new idea out there instead of just recycling things, ya know? Then I heard about one beloved 80's movie that is getting a spinoff which made me want to shake my fist at the sun....until I heard the premise. Now? If it's done right, it could actually be pretty good. There are plans for a Ferris Bueller's Day Off spin...well...off, which will center on the two valet dudes who take Cameron's dad's red '85 Modena Spyder for a joyride, and the shenanigans they encounter. </p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkA6NAq8OAjK9gCjWWI4akvk4ztsVdiQg_JarSPS2UoydmrRFpeEZmIZqON8ATR11olUH3EpmMD7JQkYYuwdu1_oGEC5IvSY_rIm33U1gaVkUy1SVPZvCiHOxSpBE9dTzGHbf31TiWrEilWsT3J9XINBIQr5jUksLah2PwLXWS2juW2o_sSi0ERDlIA/s500/one%20righteous%20dude.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="211" data-original-width="500" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkA6NAq8OAjK9gCjWWI4akvk4ztsVdiQg_JarSPS2UoydmrRFpeEZmIZqON8ATR11olUH3EpmMD7JQkYYuwdu1_oGEC5IvSY_rIm33U1gaVkUy1SVPZvCiHOxSpBE9dTzGHbf31TiWrEilWsT3J9XINBIQr5jUksLah2PwLXWS2juW2o_sSi0ERDlIA/s320/one%20righteous%20dude.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>It has a chance! It's strange to me how we have the Marvel Universe, the DC Universe, yadda yadda, and now the Ferris Bueller Universe? I wanted to hate it at first, but that is the perfect way to go about this. A side story where no one really thought much about outside that of it causing Cameron a psychiatric breakdown. It's called Sam and Victor's Day Off and it's being done by the Cobra Kai crew, so I'm gonna give his one a fair shake. </p><p>There is zero doubt in my mind that THE Halloween costume of the year is Eddie Munson of Stranger Things. I truly believe that this will rank up there as one of the most popular costumes since Halloween '08 Heath Ledger Joker and '77 Darth Vader. It will be a hit for all ages, guys, girls, them, it's going to be such a popular costume that there will be a shortage on denim vest and Metallica buttons. I'd love to get some odds from Vegas on this being the favorite. Plus if you want an easy couples costume? Just pair it with Chrissy the cheerleader and you are ready to go crush some pumpkin beers and Pinnacle pumpkin spice flavored vodka at your spooky party!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvBrNTtBYGyN2Ne-6Dyi6Ygp68Ql5eyBGQujPX80hHPU3DGqdOYbLl_81UyBkzDJJFZ64YgOJ2BlybNZx4Yplbp9RSctefBELCAFe7p5-DUWS6n3Y9aSBB-h7FyfEMMO1-u_fDa2tl21XhsE1YxbdTdklemIa-OeplCG1xIecj0O72qILgBL8YAmjSg/s640/eddie%20munson.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="640" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvBrNTtBYGyN2Ne-6Dyi6Ygp68Ql5eyBGQujPX80hHPU3DGqdOYbLl_81UyBkzDJJFZ64YgOJ2BlybNZx4Yplbp9RSctefBELCAFe7p5-DUWS6n3Y9aSBB-h7FyfEMMO1-u_fDa2tl21XhsE1YxbdTdklemIa-OeplCG1xIecj0O72qILgBL8YAmjSg/s320/eddie%20munson.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Instagram has been really bugging me lately. The other day I texted someone saying that I can't wait to go home, and autocorrect inexplicably changed home (spelled correctly, mind you) into 'hike'. From that, I did the classic '**home' follow up text. Next thing I know, I have all sorts of hiking ads and posts plastered about my Instagram feed. I hate hiking. I don't like hiking. I don't even think about hiking. Now my feed is filled with sunsets, trails, and hills that I truly do not care about. All from a phantom autocorrect that didn't even need autocorrecting. It's infuriating! </p><p>Really though. Why is Instagram now all about suggested posts and shit that your friends like instead of things YOU like? If you have someone you hate, you should just tag them in posts of topics that they hate, just to clutter their feed with things they don't care about. None of this makes any sense. My friend sends me a video that I don't find funny and suddenly I get all these posts from local stand up comics. It ain't right! Instagram used to be something I'd log into for fun. To be granted, I never took it seriously (not sure if you could tell from 99% of my captions on there) but it used to be enjoyable to see what was happenin' on the 'Gram. Now it's just a swamp of nothingness. Change it back, damn you, change it back. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWntR-BFfSDFkj3mCoPYbBsVNOZOMdaezSval8PGA9m_cbaJ7ESeJILGHoND6j8FzTcVEZbAV1SEGeAJai3fFl6FP6yIf3tf2gW3f63PzhN5NJt9civBvgotEF4iKIqX9gv-wVAdKOF7PM4RC8U9GE1HxMQNHHbhQSZsXOIWEmH75SLtl30NaDWIadQ/s300/classic%20hillside.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="241" data-original-width="300" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWntR-BFfSDFkj3mCoPYbBsVNOZOMdaezSval8PGA9m_cbaJ7ESeJILGHoND6j8FzTcVEZbAV1SEGeAJai3fFl6FP6yIf3tf2gW3f63PzhN5NJt9civBvgotEF4iKIqX9gv-wVAdKOF7PM4RC8U9GE1HxMQNHHbhQSZsXOIWEmH75SLtl30NaDWIadQ/s1600/classic%20hillside.png" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my God it's beautiful!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Lastly, I'd like to leave you with something fun but quite random. To be honest, I hope it jogs soem of your memories. Please let me introduce you to the:</p><p><b><u>Breakfast at Jimothy's Official 10 Best Songs from Rock Band 1 & 2 </u></b></p><p>I know it's been a while for these beloved games, but c'mon this was a game changer for those who are my age and younger! This was the best way to get your gang together, choose someone to try to sing, get everyone else to drum and strum, and try to set a score without embarassing yourself. It may seem cheesy now but you have to admit that at the time it was groundbreaking and a good time! Therefore, I'm going to give you my top 10 songs between the first two games (it got too crazy after Rock Band 3, I hope you can understand my thinking here). </p><p>10. Disturbed- Down With The Sickness: Ooh AH AH AH AH! I had to look that one up on Lyrics A to Z to make sure the spelling. Don't want to ruffle any feathers. I wonder how many tonsils have needed to be removed after trying to nail this one on vocals. I know somewhere out there, there are many groups of friends who have inside jokes or good memories of trying to get 5 stars or whatever the grades were for this. Not exactly a Grammy caliber tune but always entertaining! Also, bonus points because my Mom liked this song and would try to recreate the Ooh AH AH AH AH every time it came on 95.5 WBRU </p><p> 9. Red Hot Chili Peppers- Give It Away: I know, I know, they kinda have a lot of songs about California and haven't made anything good in a long, long time. You cannot, however, deny that this song was a lot of fun to play back in the day. The lyrics make no sense which could always lead to confusion, and the music itself was pretty catchy and fun to play. It's better than you may remember. Trust me. I guess.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSjphp1-AOvP7rKVH_DFDuOTLEjr9DhvLrctZqOt1TK5NhJfUOdR4xz6SXexTKPHRqD1Tb64kdgtzQMJ9riPPsptv0eWkvC-SsFdMj9pPai0VcNZrY4T0DhR4wwkAKi6WEm1WI8M76fIgPn3tTGyYPh-Q9sMiYAPLbMfpiXD03R-n2cjeviZI-L9Fxw/s250/rhcp%20simpsons.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="250" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSjphp1-AOvP7rKVH_DFDuOTLEjr9DhvLrctZqOt1TK5NhJfUOdR4xz6SXexTKPHRqD1Tb64kdgtzQMJ9riPPsptv0eWkvC-SsFdMj9pPai0VcNZrY4T0DhR4wwkAKi6WEm1WI8M76fIgPn3tTGyYPh-Q9sMiYAPLbMfpiXD03R-n2cjeviZI-L9Fxw/s1600/rhcp%20simpsons.gif" width="250" /></a></div><p>8. System of a Down- Chop Suey!: I know for a fact that this song lead to many groups of girlfriends plugging their ears and rolling their eyes as whoever was singing tried to keep up with both the lyrics and the intensity. I love Chop Suey! because it's like the smelling salt of rock music, it instantly wakes you up. Its kinda glitchy and kinda intense, but it's also kinda delightful! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyg6vUHmt00AO6cqBrEMRAoaWDULVckq58cW-4EsC87s5PjblfusOja9w-LDhZVZ4PaWiohwgKAXtyQAdQMkrYakJr9CfxMfwHlGukh2WEbIaRQsd-dlhAEoCTZfSIaRGkFYwzLUs7ukNYnog5EukayswTNCX769_zdKfHVBSSqLmRbwoXcp4Tgu-Q8g/s200/soad%20chop%20suey.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="112" data-original-width="200" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyg6vUHmt00AO6cqBrEMRAoaWDULVckq58cW-4EsC87s5PjblfusOja9w-LDhZVZ4PaWiohwgKAXtyQAdQMkrYakJr9CfxMfwHlGukh2WEbIaRQsd-dlhAEoCTZfSIaRGkFYwzLUs7ukNYnog5EukayswTNCX769_zdKfHVBSSqLmRbwoXcp4Tgu-Q8g/w320-h179/soad%20chop%20suey.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p>7. Weezer- Say It Ain't So: Certainly the calmest of the list so far. Nice and easy going where a lot of people are surprised that they know the majority of the lyrics without realizing it. It's Weezer. It's a crowd pleaser. It's a fan favorite. Play the hits.</p><p>6. Lit- My Own Worst Enemy: The ultimate rock cover band song of all cover band songs. I bet you there are probably 400,000 cover bands across the world that have this song in their setlist, no matter if they are playing the Riverside Legion or the Calabasas Knights of Columbus hall. To be honest it is probably the first song you want to learn when you form a cover band because you know you are going to get a crowd that knows every word to it, even if they are plastered from $2 at the Boom Boom Room. It was just as fun for you and the gang playing this in Debbie McGillicutty's basement as it was for 'Make Mine a Zima' as the VFW hall.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXet5u2VTVMtkihy6O3ddEFSM8rAqULWfzWVEzuvVN7dJYZFxuhkHLHsMn5OhGMyFTOLiswuHi8G6jZ5nxZYQXlPgC1s3enlPotvSHXQuDW8e0c3c2wcCw2Sbe3cA_CuVwAnRnhKK3eFjxGmOYNjkXO1jWRPqw2zEH8rt51GZ5HqT1-Ci35fZwH2W9w/s259/plz%20tell%20me%20why.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXet5u2VTVMtkihy6O3ddEFSM8rAqULWfzWVEzuvVN7dJYZFxuhkHLHsMn5OhGMyFTOLiswuHi8G6jZ5nxZYQXlPgC1s3enlPotvSHXQuDW8e0c3c2wcCw2Sbe3cA_CuVwAnRnhKK3eFjxGmOYNjkXO1jWRPqw2zEH8rt51GZ5HqT1-Ci35fZwH2W9w/s1600/plz%20tell%20me%20why.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><p>5. Blue Oyster Cult- (Don't Fear) The Reaper- yeah yeah, more cowbell. I know. I get it. I do. It was still a lot of fun. </p><p>4. Modest Mouse- Float On: Alllllllright. The pop hit single from an excellent band who was probably embarrassed at how successful this song became. You know the words, I know the words, it's a sing along in basically any situation. It may lose some points because I remember it being a little too easy to play on the guitar (controller thing), but I doubt many have a bad thing to say about this tune. </p><p>3. Bon Jovi- Livin' On a Prayer: It's easy to get lost in the simplicity of things. Is this a common tune on every version of Jock Jams ever made? Sure. Is it the best song from a band from Jersey that doesn't have Springsteen attached to it? I mean I guess so. Why not. Is it still fun to belt out every once in a while, throwing in a couple of "whoa ho oh, whoa ho ho, whoa oh ho"'s just for the hell of it? Yes! Personally, I don't like how high this one is rated but you have to face the facts, at the time of Rock Band, this was a bonafide jam. People don't forget! </p><p>2. Yeah Yeah Yeahs- Maps: Get the tissues handy. I bet you anything that somewhere out there was a party of people that featured some group who had planned all day to perform this in order to woo someone. I like to think that it had a slight chance of working. This song absolutely rules. I can still remember the stress of playing that intro on guitar (controller). In fact my thumb is twitching just thinking about it. This was also a great moment for Indie Sleaze making it to the prime time. Suddenly the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were on the same page as the Rolling Stones when it came to being featured in Rock Band. Mick Jagger wishes he could've written a song as important as Maps. This song will live forever. It's our generations own version of 'Dreams' by Fleetwood Mac. You can't change my mind.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRquMMTy_0h2jfTahIG4ozAd2N3EFuwz-7Qbt1Ey1T5voCj-BqWv15aibivZdxCJAXetPnDQaybeZ3pfikWofHyjUwuVuxJ-1HA68YPN57cuL5wo8VDINgTk6heYZiCyiiqTOSb3AZ7bClp8jNKsW0eN3hBTgCqWxj04UfBk_GaNk5od-PCn46h4hHQ/s495/yyy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="495" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRquMMTy_0h2jfTahIG4ozAd2N3EFuwz-7Qbt1Ey1T5voCj-BqWv15aibivZdxCJAXetPnDQaybeZ3pfikWofHyjUwuVuxJ-1HA68YPN57cuL5wo8VDINgTk6heYZiCyiiqTOSb3AZ7bClp8jNKsW0eN3hBTgCqWxj04UfBk_GaNk5od-PCn46h4hHQ/s320/yyy.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>1. The Killers- When You Were Young: It's the clear number one. Think of any karaoke bar you've been to. Unless the person performing it was a simpleton, it's a crowd pleaser. Especially for the time that this game came out, the Killers at the peak sort of popularity that we all thought the Strokes were going to achieve. This song was a hit amongst hits, has great lyrics, a cool sound overall and it's just kinda...fun. If you ever played Rock Band, go ahead and think back to this song. If you had any memories with friends playing this game, theres got to be a moment where you can remember the gang getting all serious trying to nail this one, just for the sake of it. This song is timeless, and it was the perfect addition to the Rock Band playlist. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Vdw4IWNGxxKPnkbUo-zUt6_MhW8fCDJ7sbxCEKxX1ZmiNIm0mFEEcMQYx45hOpYj3G5Fe2YFm1iUvhOoJrjUBzmUkGJiy5zk_atHPm62AHwuvO5jd-8NW_Bar2BNt8TJcxf-YsrUhF8cXA8Q69d9pYehgMM5zNZgCszi4n4FK3tLzBqNXV73oT5S8A/s220/rock%20band.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="127" data-original-width="220" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Vdw4IWNGxxKPnkbUo-zUt6_MhW8fCDJ7sbxCEKxX1ZmiNIm0mFEEcMQYx45hOpYj3G5Fe2YFm1iUvhOoJrjUBzmUkGJiy5zk_atHPm62AHwuvO5jd-8NW_Bar2BNt8TJcxf-YsrUhF8cXA8Q69d9pYehgMM5zNZgCszi4n4FK3tLzBqNXV73oT5S8A/w400-h231/rock%20band.gif" width="400" /></a></div><p>I hope this list made you want to brush the dust off of the PlayStation 2 in your parents basement. I know this was a random ass blog, but hey that was fun. </p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-17215607737930449302022-08-14T21:34:00.001-04:002022-08-14T21:34:50.324-04:00Kings of the Beaches: Wavves at Ocean Mist<p><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"> <span style="color: #222222;">Rhode Islanders have a sort of Napoleonic complex about them. Eh, maybe it’s more of a Rodney Dangerfield complex of not getting any respect. Time and time again performer after performer release their tour schedule, only to give Lil’ Rhody the shaft, skipping on over Providence and heading straight to Boston. It can get frustrating at times! I know you can drive through Rhode Island in like 50 minutes, but schlepping up to Boston, or worse, Hartford can be painful when there’s a band or artist you want to see. With that in mind, when Rhode Island does get some love, they go all out at those shows. Case in point: Wavves playing Ocean Mist last Monday night.</span></span></p><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;">I shan’t lie to ya, I was very surprised and confused when I saw Wakefield, RI pop up on the tour poster. Normally, I scan to look for the RI on the poster, then sigh when I don’t see Providence on there, and then check to see if the inevitable Boston show is on a weekend night (the true sign I’m getting old, I know). I was pleasantly surprised when I saw Wavves announce their 12th anniversary tour (postponed 2 years cause of that whole pandemic thing) of their iconic album King of the Beach. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigiSEXen-1zN02jMojuu_ZWsrlvmw9vvoHqgIHg4oJ7Af_rFqC04SPdofdlzIO1kpyktv-tdE1rL-Ke52r3fo5TtEwj61bw0P00FiM9px1jDG4S4oYmtffU7Ageczi2HNB5P79K1lzlMS4GWyoLsZ2o2vuC72017Z1hPHJsAWLVXw63bYYUMirDizSg/s4032/wavves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #eeeeee; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigiSEXen-1zN02jMojuu_ZWsrlvmw9vvoHqgIHg4oJ7Af_rFqC04SPdofdlzIO1kpyktv-tdE1rL-Ke52r3fo5TtEwj61bw0P00FiM9px1jDG4S4oYmtffU7Ageczi2HNB5P79K1lzlMS4GWyoLsZ2o2vuC72017Z1hPHJsAWLVXw63bYYUMirDizSg/s320/wavves.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee;">Glorious</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"> I had never been to Ocean Mist, but I know lots of cover bands play there, it was my mom’s old watering hole back in her URI days, and that it was on the water. That’s about it. As the show approached sooner and sooner, it hit me how this has the opportunity to be iconic. It suddenly made a lot of sense for the Ocean State to host Wavves, while being able to hear actual waves crashing and smelling that salty air during a show (a first for me at least). To help make it legendary was Union Station Brewery creating a beer for the event, King of the Mist. As Nathan Williams mentioned on stage, they were in fact some very crispy boyz and everyone seemed to enjoy them. Now if creating a beer for a band isn’t the most friendly Welcome to Rhode Island, then I don’t know what is.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwa8QzoARtG9kV9L3XptRoJbKA2Bwl0AU_-2BIxaLFrvtNkhQoWTHOe4qmd66i6VL5QgeFNxVwVDZPqKklXz3wfIT2zzKOUgyqpPM11k9CX3tOICRz08MqmvxJ9A8emntocrl0f6ZPFpLnbS6tOXbezmSnx7L9NWSvW_0eSZAQgTPUqrGxDm3BYtWSA/s4032/wavves%20beer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #eeeeee; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwa8QzoARtG9kV9L3XptRoJbKA2Bwl0AU_-2BIxaLFrvtNkhQoWTHOe4qmd66i6VL5QgeFNxVwVDZPqKklXz3wfIT2zzKOUgyqpPM11k9CX3tOICRz08MqmvxJ9A8emntocrl0f6ZPFpLnbS6tOXbezmSnx7L9NWSvW_0eSZAQgTPUqrGxDm3BYtWSA/s320/wavves%20beer.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee;">it was crispy. oh so crispy!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;">On to the show. I’ve seen Wavves 6 or 7 times now, dating back from around 2010 when I saw them with dear friend Danny Allen at the Paradise in Boston right around when the King of the Beach album came out. Wavves is one of those bands who NEVER disappoint. Every time I’ve seen them they always bring the heat and always have an awesome setlist. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;">At this show in particular, they had 19 songs, and all of them slapped harder Stephanie McMahon. They played all of the King of the Beach album, which for me was cool to hear some songs live that I had not before. That album means the world to me, as it brings me straight to the smack dab middle of college where I had that sumbitch on repeat. Personally, the standouts for me Convertible Balloon, Baby Say Goodbye, My Head Hurts, Demon to Lean On, and the ALWAYS excellent live Linus Spacehead. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;">It should be noted that they came out to the stage to the theme from Rugrats, which everyone loved. I had seen them come out to Stone Cold Steve Austin’s theme music, the Seinfeld theme, and some other stuff that I can’t recall cause I had too many beers, but I always appreciate their dedication to an awesome intro. Wavves is a well oiled machine live. Watching Stephen Pope headband his majestic curls will never get old to me. Stevie Pop, you beautiful bastard, keep on keeping on! Wavves mastermind Nathan Williams was excellent. He also made sure to tell everyone to watch out for each other in the pit, and to not hit his fucking microphone if you choose to stage dive. I think everyone at Ocean Mist cringed when he mentioned he had already chipped his teeth 3 times from his mic smacking him in the face and he didn’t want to get veneers. The crowd was also amused when the merch dude (great guy! Very friendly and great customer service!) huddled up with Nathan after the 2nd or 3rd song to which Nathan said “very interesting. It seems the venue doesn’t have insurance for crowd surfing” so everyone was doing it at their own risk. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymc8KY-S_X0MrlWshng7Wnv0dxw-eDkLQJIMT3BaVrhbmKryJwLVpryabzAtKzVjgfoCEvPaHs1SJqg_l0QnYLwruaWg28qOLBelDXYPxolnu7TbsVjYIqSY5rkHEp9oBq0jnOJPfG_m7Hq5lDxy9cV35mkm71W23VZM_hB3bEbgBov5SjTFiCQdLWQ/s4032/wavves%20tech%20deck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #eeeeee; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymc8KY-S_X0MrlWshng7Wnv0dxw-eDkLQJIMT3BaVrhbmKryJwLVpryabzAtKzVjgfoCEvPaHs1SJqg_l0QnYLwruaWg28qOLBelDXYPxolnu7TbsVjYIqSY5rkHEp9oBq0jnOJPfG_m7Hq5lDxy9cV35mkm71W23VZM_hB3bEbgBov5SjTFiCQdLWQ/s320/wavves%20tech%20deck.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee;">Take my money!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;">Another thing to give Wavves credit for is their kickass merchandise. In the past, I’ve got 5 of my favorite band tees all from Wavves, and also a prayer candle. This night in particular I picked up a Wavves tee featuring Kevin McAllister of Home Alone fame (from the back artwork of King of the Beach). I toiled with the idea of bringing home a Wavves skate deck, but then saw that they offered a Tech Deck version of it, so I figured that was easy enough to carry in my pocket and put on my bookshelf for the rest of eternity. The only bummer of the show was that they had sold out of the King of the Beach beach towels. They looked awesome and, truth be told, I was actually in the market for a new beach towel. Besides that and the dickhead bouncer who grilled my ID and was a total bitch to everyone, it was a truly awesome show. (Really though, my brother in Christ, I was grilled harder on my ID as a 32 year old then I was as a 19 year old when I was at the original King of the Beach tour. I’m so old I have to stretch before shows now. what the hell are you doing grilling me of all people? Geez Louise. Okay. Sorry. I’m done). </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77BOdxc29JZf9VCKpPgDoLOZTZ_xBo69q6wfF71dF0MPwXu3xEb2mKUbINZqMOt15Ra3wxUnkiyBLGHobH9Rnid_LjylSKn2WY4R8n-cg-O4rZplFQCglcvsRyFSsTyCQw3IMLgRwdSsMw2-yg44Rd_eTHk5uMaIaGaDbXKpu3R0aPBEjxW6hghuSGQ/s4032/wavves%20kevin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #eeeeee; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77BOdxc29JZf9VCKpPgDoLOZTZ_xBo69q6wfF71dF0MPwXu3xEb2mKUbINZqMOt15Ra3wxUnkiyBLGHobH9Rnid_LjylSKn2WY4R8n-cg-O4rZplFQCglcvsRyFSsTyCQw3IMLgRwdSsMw2-yg44Rd_eTHk5uMaIaGaDbXKpu3R0aPBEjxW6hghuSGQ/s320/wavves%20kevin.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee;">how could I leave this there?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;">For me, it came full circle going to this show for an album that means a lot to me. It was great to go with Danny to both shows, and also to hang out with his wife Annik (they met because of me lol ur welcome) and my buddy Jed who was throwing down in the pit with the best of ‘em. Wavves is the real deal, folks. For a good time, go check out those dudes. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: georgia;">I appreciated it, and Rhode Island did as well. I have a good feeling down the road I’ll be able to blow people’s minds saying “yeah I was there” about this show. It just had that sort of feel to it.</span></div>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-89712877323879792412022-03-24T19:44:00.002-04:002022-03-24T19:44:30.376-04:00Dear Friary...<p>Holy shit, you guys.</p><p>The Providence College Friars are still dancing in the Sweet 16. What a time to be alive! After a season of Ed Cooley telling us all to be them dudes, it is officially time to, in fact, be them dudes. While the first ever Big East regular season championship banner in school history will look nice up in the rafters at the Dunk, I think we should add some more decorations and keep updating some of those other banners. Why stop at Sweet 16? Let's keep the ball rolling! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYVv5ip5qAAPepS4DE-k_O4wlD30bj9OuCST1IcHSPOv_wIzkcaLMbV_u9ZONOUjjv4yyfSWsNOPB5tNxMXe6oBr-qpWrt_k66ZJ-TT1dx6rKNITlfEVWjet5BS8aaELzrrSTdsbTZLL2eNT6WCtN63KVtK2736qxXURuafN41azTBlF-f3YN_GPQLWw/s4032/court%20storm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYVv5ip5qAAPepS4DE-k_O4wlD30bj9OuCST1IcHSPOv_wIzkcaLMbV_u9ZONOUjjv4yyfSWsNOPB5tNxMXe6oBr-qpWrt_k66ZJ-TT1dx6rKNITlfEVWjet5BS8aaELzrrSTdsbTZLL2eNT6WCtN63KVtK2736qxXURuafN41azTBlF-f3YN_GPQLWw/s320/court%20storm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>This season has been a lot of fun for a ton of reasons. The fans/students have been electric and fueled by Bud Light tallboys. I made it to 3 games this year, each one being more electric than the last, with the cherry on top being in attendance for all those hooligans storm the court as we beat up on Creighton to clinch the BE title. The City of Providence needed this. Things just hadn't been the same since Buddy Cianci croaked, and suddenly the sun seems to shine a bit brighter. I mean, yeah it sucked that the beer lines were way longer than I ever remembered back in my days at PC, but it's worth it! Well, the $12.75 beers may not actually be worth it..but you know what I mean.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iSCSw7NnCyckI_OA74APUv52uwB_Kvmpz-y_Z7LRslERVu-b6Dl6Lb_zdrMmOoqEgyBckH6siCMmI19bFkrz4OAW356Gm0UMUx0sEjva-S9FztZYIRHVLFgenhbU87ixm4qKkehx90KI0Rg_ATYW2E2fenlvsCTK-DfQtIdc2QuG3SZzV80tuJiqSw/s4032/big%20east%20champs%20sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iSCSw7NnCyckI_OA74APUv52uwB_Kvmpz-y_Z7LRslERVu-b6Dl6Lb_zdrMmOoqEgyBckH6siCMmI19bFkrz4OAW356Gm0UMUx0sEjva-S9FztZYIRHVLFgenhbU87ixm4qKkehx90KI0Rg_ATYW2E2fenlvsCTK-DfQtIdc2QuG3SZzV80tuJiqSw/s320/big%20east%20champs%20sign.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>I was an undergrad from 2008-2012 toiling away at a Psych degree that I will never use. My time at PC had it's up and downs. Yes, up and downs. The up? PC beating number 1 ranked Pitt. Still a top 5 night of my life. I thought Eaton Street was going to go up in flames. There I was, drinking pitchers of beer at a bar I used my fake ID to get into, feeling on top of the world, proud like I had accomplished something. After that? I don't know. Couple nice wins here and there. God Keno Davis sucked ass. The only Keno that should ever matter is the type you play at a dive bar. Let's see, what else did we have to celebrate from my era? Hmm. Ooh! There was the time MarShon Brooks dropped 50 against Notre Dame! ...in an overtime loss. Okay, there's more....aha! Eureka! I was there when Jeff Xavier's brother walked out onto the court to talk some sense into that ref! Now THAT was a good time. I guess PC hoops wasn't really too memorable out of one night that sure has some memories that are fuzzy. I digress.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQSaHuN4lelwE1nB02pYV2rGsF-35t7Qav3kulQSFVRBU6dJmE2xePNuAzRmVQJrs_XoFLN8QTwlD0Lvit7K6vfbaL9oZqDCVB-v9S89FBXX7fz3ZHH-1B6hCHBWs8gJ0_DYeYZv987IcU2kze4N9XzrvtT4Mlz--UH9EsWNMUT0L46qpHgBBi8vcQA/s604/young%20guns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQSaHuN4lelwE1nB02pYV2rGsF-35t7Qav3kulQSFVRBU6dJmE2xePNuAzRmVQJrs_XoFLN8QTwlD0Lvit7K6vfbaL9oZqDCVB-v9S89FBXX7fz3ZHH-1B6hCHBWs8gJ0_DYeYZv987IcU2kze4N9XzrvtT4Mlz--UH9EsWNMUT0L46qpHgBBi8vcQA/s320/young%20guns.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shoutout Aquinas 209!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>This team loves to feed off of the hate, and boy have their plates been full! For me personally, it makes me cringe when I hear local radio discuss them. 98.5 the Sports Hub is usually on at my work. They discussed the Friars for the first time about 2 weeks ago, where Rich of T and R just decides to shit on Rhode Island as if there is some big feud between RI and Massachusetts. He seriously thinks everyone here is a hick who have bricks for brains are living in 1993. For a guy who grew up in Georgia, this is pretty funny. Why he thinks he has to be such a prick to Rhode Island is something I'll never understand. Then there is Joe Murray, member of the Bankroll Boyz podcast or some shit like that. He fills in here and there. Joe Murray made the super bold call of PC losing in round 1 to South Dakota State and that it was virtually a no brainer. If he thinks that was a unique bet, he's an idiot cause a whoooooole lot of people had money riding on the SD State Jackasses. So of course, he gets a ton of backlash from PC fans, with some even calling him an illiterate calzone, and he now decides to strike back by calling PC fans...sensitive? Sensitive? For a guy who lives and breathes making "hot sports takes" maybe you're being the sensitive one. Your station didn't talk about Providence College hoops all season long and when you do it's just "Meh. These guys blow. They're losing first round." What a joke. Of course people are going to come after you for being such a dick. Rhode Island has a Napoleonic Complex type of situation to it. Smallest state, proudest state. Don't you dare crack wise on Rhode Island. The only people who are allowed to bitch and moan about Rhode Island is Rhode Islanders plain and simple. In the south, when someone thinks you've said something dumb, people will say "Bless your heart" and then say something very insulting about your intelligence. Here in the Ocean State, when you make a dumbass take about PC basketball, we're going to gladly tell you what is going through our minds, "bless your heart" not included.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFd-rzjw7I4xyXOrRYzSI0-MVAJokBpF1KWY3Iz5XJNLI2cGHCJ892upOjwmiUt5EDtpB4x4N3-8zUYc9MxfkbrsgJ1y5Qo6iIHxAxvhW6uQ1TUHf5pd_R2K3pbVIsDf6aUn9O-cGKew_4Uwvz-BbJ9ZGGT2jjkxYWOSqhcl7ziNhbuYdyOqXj1xVj4Q/s1400/death.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFd-rzjw7I4xyXOrRYzSI0-MVAJokBpF1KWY3Iz5XJNLI2cGHCJ892upOjwmiUt5EDtpB4x4N3-8zUYc9MxfkbrsgJ1y5Qo6iIHxAxvhW6uQ1TUHf5pd_R2K3pbVIsDf6aUn9O-cGKew_4Uwvz-BbJ9ZGGT2jjkxYWOSqhcl7ziNhbuYdyOqXj1xVj4Q/s320/death.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Then, you have your national guys. Public enemy number one for PC fans on the old Twitter Machine has to be that fucking nerd Ken Pom. This guy. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim62lm9TBXQbU95zrYFRGqE8In_WVP2lMrXKR6Z-s-1yflDkztSJg8c0Yd9_UUpUfalrqH0ZMGrbs_Xo5G6TzWhXU2ZYim96MFvvg0RejQv4JCgHd8VT6XBtEjvgwwu7P3s9BLqsDyZn616k5CXV3KKn5yQ7hoG6HMHSXfdSX-YdQ2sImGO3W130XC6w/s286/ken%20pom%20nerd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="286" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim62lm9TBXQbU95zrYFRGqE8In_WVP2lMrXKR6Z-s-1yflDkztSJg8c0Yd9_UUpUfalrqH0ZMGrbs_Xo5G6TzWhXU2ZYim96MFvvg0RejQv4JCgHd8VT6XBtEjvgwwu7P3s9BLqsDyZn616k5CXV3KKn5yQ7hoG6HMHSXfdSX-YdQ2sImGO3W130XC6w/s1600/ken%20pom%20nerd.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><p>Ken Pom is a stat nerd who loves to crunch all these numbers and beep moop cha ching boop meep oh look here's who is going to win the national championship. Guys like KenPom don't take into the equation that you can't actually win on paper or an Excel sheet. KenPom has had PC as the luckiest team in the nation basically all season long. He wants to talk about luck? He'll be lucky not to have my foot up his ass if that jackass ever gets a veal parm sub on Federal Hill. Then you have the ultimate ESPN lackey Jay Bilas who even still refuses to give PC any credit, ranking them the 14th best team out of the remaining 16. Oh go screw. Just tell everyone you want Duke to win it all and call it a night. We all know the Bilas Bias. Of course, the real jackass of the bunch has to be Jesse Newell. He's a Kansas (!) beat reporter who somehow tricked his way into getting an AP vote to rank teams. I swear if you look at the teams he's voted for you would think he is picking which schools sent him the most mail after taking the SATs. I think Perkins School for the Blind got a vote before PC did this year. All these nerds need to pay and we need Cooley and Co to build off of this utter hatred and underdog bullshit and beat up Kansas so Jesse Newell can go chase after some tumbleweeds or whatever the hell there is to do in Kansas besides watch a basketball game.</p><p>It's nice being an alum of the best college program in the Northeast. It's not even close at this rate. Providence College is doing what Boston College was supposed to do. I bet Boston College's AD gets the willies every time he sees a sign for I95 South. He knows that just 50 or so minutes away, Providence and Ed Cooley are getting things done. Kicking ass and taking names, as God intended. This is gonna be fun Friday night (I hope). Noah Horchler is playing lights out (I was scared, like everyone else, when he cut off his luscious locks, but we good), Nate Watson is all in on this run, Bynum and Durham know that it's the end of the road, so why not extend it. This team is damn good and they are finally forcing people to notice. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMTUxhZQQPDPfVt2M1hvFSi_9iCJbpglsI6CDJ_Zo1KzXUxLXIczIRTtyTCOeMhT-IwCcY2rjIFdHztNdeaZVEvMFSrIAPrh-CKD7vLzuqPEA9s-Vf7Q0PXA6i2c-UfuwGEgBB6fSHJXz26RbBXFTyhZUOimaHJZmsGByZW3zJyqaOT56KGAGkWdo0A/s1200/fire%20cooley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMTUxhZQQPDPfVt2M1hvFSi_9iCJbpglsI6CDJ_Zo1KzXUxLXIczIRTtyTCOeMhT-IwCcY2rjIFdHztNdeaZVEvMFSrIAPrh-CKD7vLzuqPEA9s-Vf7Q0PXA6i2c-UfuwGEgBB6fSHJXz26RbBXFTyhZUOimaHJZmsGByZW3zJyqaOT56KGAGkWdo0A/s320/fire%20cooley.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooley on Fire > Fire Cooley</td></tr></tbody></table><p>So what happens if they get smoked by the Kansas Jayhawks? Not much. It's been a hell of a year and no matter what it is going to go down as a success. It's gambling with house money at this point. So why not go all in? Plus, is PC does lose, just give it a year or so. Kansas and coach Bill Self are going to get slapped with some rules infraction and will have to vacate this entire tournament, so just give PC the win anyways. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplXJZoJeZje2xFf-GRQ0aIkflKOH0QKMM7jkRO8A1_95SRozZdHJw2ajtn6tpIm1phw0_SxKRThqOz178rn4LWgQxfcyOqVvOq14tta_WuwgV8hBhV_7KzawHB9syw-QsH9gHvG2EWgeUrXgOttaah4qsOGHkSBb_0MaNu0vuyd2sgJFXq6n7MTxeDg/s1792/scary%20friar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplXJZoJeZje2xFf-GRQ0aIkflKOH0QKMM7jkRO8A1_95SRozZdHJw2ajtn6tpIm1phw0_SxKRThqOz178rn4LWgQxfcyOqVvOq14tta_WuwgV8hBhV_7KzawHB9syw-QsH9gHvG2EWgeUrXgOttaah4qsOGHkSBb_0MaNu0vuyd2sgJFXq6n7MTxeDg/s320/scary%20friar.jpg" width="148" /></a></div><p>Luck? Whatever. We'll take whatever we can get. All I know is "in Cooley we trust". Our mascot is creepy as hell and can help by simply weirding out Kansas. We already beat up South Dakota State and that douche with the Karate style headband. Round two we mopped the floor with the Richmond Spidermen. If I were Kansas I'd be quivering in my...I don't know. Whatever Kansians....Kansasites...Kansas people wear for shoes. You want my prediction? Here:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTUpGv9wTGl9IQIeepDAiaID7gmKNgaezJmhoRqXnDMPNrRxoT4UWO84-dq6Uret_a_C1oErOHugMJefdrM9wcukCrjheHin0r6d1iobOd8IEAXrCYv-N_QtR-3jIgk6Q2gnoZlCl-qeRpma9AiKLGJ5-YXd1_cffdNOUtSzDwnF0XQyprZ7lcF7y0A/s622/the%20orb%20of%20wonderment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="622" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTUpGv9wTGl9IQIeepDAiaID7gmKNgaezJmhoRqXnDMPNrRxoT4UWO84-dq6Uret_a_C1oErOHugMJefdrM9wcukCrjheHin0r6d1iobOd8IEAXrCYv-N_QtR-3jIgk6Q2gnoZlCl-qeRpma9AiKLGJ5-YXd1_cffdNOUtSzDwnF0XQyprZ7lcF7y0A/s320/the%20orb%20of%20wonderment.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Be them dudes!</p><p>Friars by a million!</p><p>Keep the faith!!!!!</p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-19823911638327117392022-03-13T21:06:00.002-04:002022-03-13T21:06:33.449-04:00Utter Euphoria: Burning Questions!<p>Euphoria, Euphoria, where art thou Euphoria? I don't know, it just sounded good in my head. Opening lines are the toughest. Quite possibly the most controversial show in TV Land right now wrapped up a couple weeks ago, and I've just had the time to digest it and write about it. To be perfectly transparent, I didn't watch season 1 of this. I was introduced to it as my girlfriend watched it while I was playing Mario Kart World Tour on my iPad (CactusJim on there if anyone is trying to get their hopes dashed on Cheep Cheep Beach). Boy did that opening episode suck me in! I learned that Zendaya is famous for something other than those skin care commercials, and holy smokes these kids are messed up!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz_GLvgkvc244laWbvrugCHLOhHsWviHSI5yGW9j-vBKUjJTKwSwHsvOLuHpTi_xCTonJHkKWajjokKjvixhB_m9F9poG8Ca-4QWcdvXIRs90PU8rVZDlAo5_V72nTaHxkqYjUvfrmi7ys1sGVuRmx1v-zscy7CdlGlvV-3DncwmXkyCHZTIauHmjg0g=s480" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz_GLvgkvc244laWbvrugCHLOhHsWviHSI5yGW9j-vBKUjJTKwSwHsvOLuHpTi_xCTonJHkKWajjokKjvixhB_m9F9poG8Ca-4QWcdvXIRs90PU8rVZDlAo5_V72nTaHxkqYjUvfrmi7ys1sGVuRmx1v-zscy7CdlGlvV-3DncwmXkyCHZTIauHmjg0g=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Despite not watching the first season, I got a grasp for it easily that it is high school on a molly and steroid cocktail. Backstabbings, cheating, drugs, theatre, drugs and more drugs, dealing drugs, a 9 year old with a face tattoo... there's a lot going on. I do get a laugh out of people saying how unrealistic the show is and how it's terrible for kids to watch. It's a show about high schoolers for adults! It's obvious. Can't you tell by the entire cast being played by like, 30 somethings. I hear Ash is actually 45 and is pulling an Andy Milonakis. Not really, but you get the picture. By now, if you haven't seen season two I must do my duty and give a *spoiler alert* I don't want anyone to get mad at me. I tied for friendliest in my 8th grade superlatives so I like to be liked, you know? The purpose of this blog from here on out are my most burning questions that remain after season 2. Let's start!</p><p><b>How the shit did Lexi get a set budget like that approved?</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqT-QwToLI4tHFvmiRsm_s6MS-RBRDs0FaR5JbU1ykJEFEznlRxZcQI05OGfY3QHFx7U_Luppa4bQakFrojjdHWxPRNmWxxPYuWjUjyAG9Xp0FBYqINZjya99CsQ3R7_ClTvVLF2FC-X_UH5-fDDVNWPW-rSMM7bmVvpxK99bPuwqThg0nSWE1MuCTeA=s512" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="512" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqT-QwToLI4tHFvmiRsm_s6MS-RBRDs0FaR5JbU1ykJEFEznlRxZcQI05OGfY3QHFx7U_Luppa4bQakFrojjdHWxPRNmWxxPYuWjUjyAG9Xp0FBYqINZjya99CsQ3R7_ClTvVLF2FC-X_UH5-fDDVNWPW-rSMM7bmVvpxK99bPuwqThg0nSWE1MuCTeA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p>I mean, holy shit. There's a lot to question about Lexi Howard's spellbinding school play 'Our Life'. Between what seems like a quick turn around time, a lot of kids being way too good at their jobs, a ton of delightful choreography, somehow getting this generation of ADHD rattled kids to give a damn about a school play...there's lots going on. The one thing that has me the most confused is how they got a budget like that. Keep in mind that East Highland High School is a public school. I will never forget my Junior year at East Providence High School we ran out of paper and were encouraged to bring our own. If the EPHS production of Grease had that sort of set budget I would've probably enjoyed it a whole lot more. If this were Maude Apatow's actual high school, I could see a budget this immense being used on a high school production. Between moving stages, multiple sets, terrific lighting and elaborate costumes, it was a smashing success! Having Maddy come on stage and beat the shit out of Cassie with a shoe also didn't hurt. Keep 'em wanting more! This being said, they probably could've just made this one episode...but whatever man it's cool.<p></p><p><b>Why do all the episode titles sound like perfect song titles for an early 00's emo album?</b></p><p>I'm just going to list the episodes here for you and let you decide if this sounds like the track listing by an unreleased Starting Line album circa 2003:</p><p>-Trying to Get to Heaven Before They Close the Door</p><p>-Out of Touch</p><p>-Ruminations: Big and Little Bullys</p><p>-You Who Cannot See, Think of Those Who Can</p><p>-Stand Still Like the Hummingbird</p><p>-A Thousand Little Trees of Blood</p><p>-The Theater and Its Double</p><p>-All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned for a Thing I Cannot Name</p><p>I rest my case. </p><p><b>Did Elliot's acoustic song unite this nation for the first time in years?</b></p><p>I don't think I'm overexaggerating when I suggest that Elliot's song may have been so universally hated that the US of A was the most unified on a topic in ages. It was like Democrats and Republicans, Conservatives and Liberals, Cats and Dogs everywhere took a moment to stop fighting and say BOO! HISS! This sucks! Seriously though, that song was dreadful. The first 30 seconds, okay fine, whatever, the kid can noodle on the guitar and probably knows Wonderwall. Then, it just kept going, and going and...well you know the rest. There was a good 4 maybe 5 moments in the song where he kept going for another verse and I could feel the collective, agonizing groan of Euphoria viewers everywhere. The song sucked ass and was corny as hell, but the in all seriousness, why did that take place for like 5 minutes in a season finale where we still had a whole lot of questions to be answered! I know a lot of people were fed up with how this season went, but his scene may have been Euphoria's "jump the shark" moment, it was that bad. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT30TNIPJ1TzyK3Yh2eA1LM5-bioskFc3xSjJH_qk0B120U85f6EFhwzCUAkD-yY-4oJBHhgrUbadFfvUIvwdiX_AuQfpqqp4TN8NaU3BsVRYgklAevmreCgp87xi872MJrcB-my5lbqrInOBQCR5ceYr-rOPr2IEqTm7U_3BMGyd_Fs2ztlIGFUCrEA=s400" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="400" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT30TNIPJ1TzyK3Yh2eA1LM5-bioskFc3xSjJH_qk0B120U85f6EFhwzCUAkD-yY-4oJBHhgrUbadFfvUIvwdiX_AuQfpqqp4TN8NaU3BsVRYgklAevmreCgp87xi872MJrcB-my5lbqrInOBQCR5ceYr-rOPr2IEqTm7U_3BMGyd_Fs2ztlIGFUCrEA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p><b>Who tattooed Ash's face?</b></p><p>It's lovely work. I think they did a great job on it.</p><p><b>Why is Nate drinking Budweiser?</b></p><p>This one really puzzles me. We see multiple times (usually whilst driving) Nate drinking a nice cold bottle of Bud heavy. I love Budweiser. My Grandpa used to sneak me a few back in the day so I've always had a special place for it in my heart and fridge. Nate drinking it just seems so...wrong. Nate is a high schooler. He should be drinking his fair share of Keystone or Natty Light. On a special occasion you can shoot for the moon and roll with a Bud Light or a Coors Light. No teen is going to be getting Budweiser just for the hell of it. One may argue that Nate is very rich and can afford the (slightly) more expensive Budweiser but I would counter that and say if that were the case, he is pretentious enough to get Stella Artois. I can even picture him at a party playing with the stupid paper on a Stella that covers the neck of the bottle and bottle cap, before Fezco comes up and punches that douchebag in the back of his head and then shoves said Stella Artois up his arse. This really bugged me. I don't know.</p><p><b>Was Rue Bennet's marathon the best chemically induced athletic achievement ever?</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7-w87JZf9OJJh2OIYWt_7zfJWrE25j7o_oz7lDTO4Usu4KxbQD6Eix-UAEaH6o5R67XYSFnJsYQIma-1PYhBIEFiMQLwRrLzGr5duocjwzsyE6Hn5ltq_08upDoaTo9PrvZSbNmx4bTD8b3n4PiCGC06Jt6Hj3BqKs7NzSiSmOUlHnGkb4osQZu9ohg=s498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="498" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7-w87JZf9OJJh2OIYWt_7zfJWrE25j7o_oz7lDTO4Usu4KxbQD6Eix-UAEaH6o5R67XYSFnJsYQIma-1PYhBIEFiMQLwRrLzGr5duocjwzsyE6Hn5ltq_08upDoaTo9PrvZSbNmx4bTD8b3n4PiCGC06Jt6Hj3BqKs7NzSiSmOUlHnGkb4osQZu9ohg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p>Barry Bonds hit 73 homers in 2001 juiced up on steroids. Dock Ellis threw a no-hitter in 1970 while on LSD. Rue Bennett did her best Trainspotting impression by running for her life all while on various drugs where was in desperate need of a bathroom, to put it mildly. In the course of doing so she revealed a secret about Cassie which has put her at the top of Maddy's hit list and somehow did so all while wearing Chuck Taylor's! Do you know how hard those are to run in, even sober? Zero arch support on those clown shoes. I'm thinking this is the best drug induced athletic feat ever. And that includes that Russian figure skater who took her grandpa's heart meds last month. Hey also...</p><p><b>Doesn't Rue still owe the drug dealers, like, 8 grand?</b></p><p>I found it amusing that Rue miraculously escaped a drug den where she was held hostage by the creepy monotone woman the bald dude who is always naked yet she was just out there in public watching her school play. On the one hand it's very nice of her to support her pal Lexi, and I guess I would be curious too if a play was written with myself as one of the main characters...but shouldn't she be keeping a low profile? That episode of Rue running all over town was one of the most intense episodes of any show I had seen in a while. I felt out of breath and exhausted just by watching it. If I owed those guys around $8 grand, I'd be trying to pick up a couple extra shifts at the Long John Silver's. </p><p><b>How does Cassie know all the words to a Sinead O'Connor song?</b></p><p>Shouldn't Cassie be obsessing over Machine Gun Kelly, Lizzo, and Billie Eilish as a teen in 2022? I'll be honest, of all the absurd stuff in this show, Cassie knowing every single word to Sinead O'Connor's 1987(!) hit 'Drink Before the War' seemed the most unlikely moment. She's wasted enough to completely ruin a hot tub by puking yet she knows all the words to that song? Which came out probably...15 years before she was born? I love music of that era but I'm 31 and don't know much of Sinead O'Connor besides Nothing Compares 2U and her ripping up the Pope's picture on SNL. Oh Cassie. What a tangled web you have wove. Weaved? Woven? Oh who remembers.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifFp14Vj3G__uERNuKvnU6IrSW4HqgzlAdoaiAjftWoGWPVu6JLQPEG3eEsV7MsxKzKtciKlKQ53aLFtXVj2EynSOZe0mOf3n0Z3uIXjBg1C2TqX-R5OWz6KJMmF14KYmx_FR6VqYENHuSYVMhfWs_iRceDUKQalQG1vncBD6iAKlUzUi646LdHeTGuQ=s480" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifFp14Vj3G__uERNuKvnU6IrSW4HqgzlAdoaiAjftWoGWPVu6JLQPEG3eEsV7MsxKzKtciKlKQ53aLFtXVj2EynSOZe0mOf3n0Z3uIXjBg1C2TqX-R5OWz6KJMmF14KYmx_FR6VqYENHuSYVMhfWs_iRceDUKQalQG1vncBD6iAKlUzUi646LdHeTGuQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm just not buying this!</td></tr></tbody></table><p><b>What was with Minka Kelly giving Maddy that purple dress?</b></p><p>Why not wear it to the play or something? Is she saving it for prom? I figured it would be a revenge dress after Maddy received it. You know, like Princess Diana had that black dress for Prince Charles, Maddy should've showed up and to the play in that number and made Nate think twice about...well, everything I guess. It just seemed bizarre to go through that storyline of Maddy babysitting, Minka Kelly obviously knowing she was trying on her stuff, gives her one of the designer dresses and then...that's it we just go to the last couple episodes and it's not used for anything. Just seems like a bit of a waste so far, but hey maybe we'll see it when season 3 comes out in 2027.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiiex38NUlVEthemcAXROwABsJhJ5q5sqc6RpAIXdhGlVn3GnW9X7OOw5G9P2DhEdrJvkdPRePMeM1VRkMSEPrEujREB44-sxbL0NJ-hwxA4lpR1ph9D4_UGPmtN2uHIGbqFoPFaghcau2VFGeA6oY43_ILjkUO5DJM_SrXHLGleUpdUjdowtadTxCmzA=s620" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiiex38NUlVEthemcAXROwABsJhJ5q5sqc6RpAIXdhGlVn3GnW9X7OOw5G9P2DhEdrJvkdPRePMeM1VRkMSEPrEujREB44-sxbL0NJ-hwxA4lpR1ph9D4_UGPmtN2uHIGbqFoPFaghcau2VFGeA6oY43_ILjkUO5DJM_SrXHLGleUpdUjdowtadTxCmzA=s320" width="279" /></a></div><p><b>Did Ethan get every award that the East Highland Drama Department handed out that year?</b></p><p>Because let me tell you one thing, he should have. His performance can only be described as spellbinding. Whether he was portraying Suze Howard or Nate or literally everyone, Ethan was the Swiss Army Knife of that ensemble. Bravo, Ethan, bravo. May you get your flowers, young man!</p><p><b>Lastly, is Faye the best character on the show?</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcALbJhOtYxOuvcAYukqnwDaE1zZuZI_XM7bzmlorBl9aICJ10dYOQgcwyiCW0OnFwDciYc2JfcEhD8winodoHyvOtiwaZXKm7FeN_3r_tDMsfWxqYukaIGcTWf3837PWNDNyQwrVai4kVZjGXfeEn6YaSCSCeCC8kaco2LK_SaBujQ0G1dkAGh66HnA=s498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="249" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcALbJhOtYxOuvcAYukqnwDaE1zZuZI_XM7bzmlorBl9aICJ10dYOQgcwyiCW0OnFwDciYc2JfcEhD8winodoHyvOtiwaZXKm7FeN_3r_tDMsfWxqYukaIGcTWf3837PWNDNyQwrVai4kVZjGXfeEn6YaSCSCeCC8kaco2LK_SaBujQ0G1dkAGh66HnA=s320" width="160" /></a></div><b><br /></b><p></p><p>Faye all day! The much needed comic relief of this dark, dark show was Faye. She stole the screen every time she dropped her couple of lines. You'd have to be blind to see she didn't fall for Fez, and there was definitely a thought that she may get revenge as a scorned woman, knowing Fez had the heart eyes for Lexi, but Faye stayed true to Fez. Fez did take her in and give her a home for a bit as a favor, and Faye stayed true by helping him out with that rat Custer. One quick note, Custer really does look like a rat. I mean Chuck E. Cheese could be that guys uncle or something. Very hateable character. I did feel bad he got blood on his Metallica football jersey though. But yeah anyways, Faye did the right thing trying to help Fez. Not her fault Ashtray had to go blow the thing up (literally). Everyone should have a soft spot for Faye. She ended up being a delight. My vote is for Faye. Let's get more of her in season 3! Even if she is serving time for the whole drug trafficking and possible murder connection thing...oh well. Life marches on!</p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-57271902360845795362022-01-25T22:13:00.000-05:002022-01-25T22:13:10.687-05:00GCW: The WRLD Is TheirsIf you ask me, the 90's was the golden age for many, many things. Music, television, music television, the overall quality of life, style...a whole lot of things. Professional wrestling was certainly hitting it's golden age in the mid-late 90's. It almost seems a lifetime ago of having the now infamous Monday Night Wars between Vince McMahon and Ted Turner. While those two got all the glory, many people would consider ECW as the scrappy underdog that may have been the most entertaining of the bunch. It had nowhere near the budget or television opportunities as the other two, but ECW had this deviously charming way about it that always made it stand out on its own. It was grainy, gritty, maybe more realistic. I'll put it this way, you'd be guaranteed some moments that would both make you cringe and say holy shit multiple times every show, where you couldn't always guarantee that with the other two. It was simpler times, and when ECW folded, it was a sad moment for the world of wrestling. The one with all the true hardcore passion had to be the first one to go. It ain't fair, but it was what it was.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihJ7t6bFSUBHxRpUPbzz_LAE1GXep9T2r7STdjwGHKfzMQVYkUUW27wqVGa_s_HgfhSdR2WXlBj38rWpBARR_bbsAuKwaHxg4QLvBNDZcXZ_4WO3DGwRQ6W4oaow-pcww7yCYjVcTqSNWOhcM_QEQo0NDBQc6685zRFZRIfRO-uK6Xfbin0qfy8xsd9w=s450" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="450" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihJ7t6bFSUBHxRpUPbzz_LAE1GXep9T2r7STdjwGHKfzMQVYkUUW27wqVGa_s_HgfhSdR2WXlBj38rWpBARR_bbsAuKwaHxg4QLvBNDZcXZ_4WO3DGwRQ6W4oaow-pcww7yCYjVcTqSNWOhcM_QEQo0NDBQc6685zRFZRIfRO-uK6Xfbin0qfy8xsd9w=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simpler times at Heatwave 98</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Of course, as time moves on, things can get back into the groove. And here we are in 2022.</div><div><br /></div><div>The last couple of years has been a boom for the wrestling biz. Between the arrival of AEW becoming a viable threat to WWE, shows like Dark Side of the Ring drawing in current and older fans, a bunch of big names leaving WWE to reinvent themselves with their own creativity (which went wasted in WWE), there is a whole lot of exciting content out there. If you remember back in the 90's, Vince McMahon promised that WWE (F back then) was the "cure for the common show". He didn't want to insult his audience with unbelievable characters and snooze-worthy storylines. I look at WWE now and...what the shit happened? I'm not kidding you, Raw had an academic challenge last night, and they have already confirmed a Scooter Race (seriously) next week on Raw. </div><div><br /></div><div>As a member of the audience? I'm fucking insulted.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJ8yrckc04stleFarmQNfEKCHYypJHk46JqEcyoBm237t4DYaZ86DZnsYH6MKUsa18Np7hO1FMjaVQeg_YCPin5bGTKbrNYBcja-wxgrIBeVnnlYOjYNPi8b6_nB-6ljNQXsIgBZ2yhpvqHKvnGC81KGbUn-BCmyC8YVrYi9mj5JbpiWw7TVrQBRPIow=s320" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="320" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJ8yrckc04stleFarmQNfEKCHYypJHk46JqEcyoBm237t4DYaZ86DZnsYH6MKUsa18Np7hO1FMjaVQeg_YCPin5bGTKbrNYBcja-wxgrIBeVnnlYOjYNPi8b6_nB-6ljNQXsIgBZ2yhpvqHKvnGC81KGbUn-BCmyC8YVrYi9mj5JbpiWw7TVrQBRPIow" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...die of boredom from Raw</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Thank God for AEW. It was long overdue for Vinny Mac to get some competition, and he certainly has it now. As AEW continues to grow, GCW is also growing at a rapid rate, and most importantly, it's living up to the G part of it's name: gamechanger. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZZzJAPsLZaappWpHRt6qmyjjKwTekmN-xtbGeD-wFw4hgomHn8fTsX5KeIhLaeMwPtiAFHRW4Y98ls0RNJ-wl6gfzZjo9iOXMO5cCgCm8C-Xyjo1pDRXL0KYKUoaec3MsnxbhhrbApGh3J3KmldHs4uKwbXsqjHzutR941zC-7uXmL8RACABXmWCwAA=s450" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="450" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZZzJAPsLZaappWpHRt6qmyjjKwTekmN-xtbGeD-wFw4hgomHn8fTsX5KeIhLaeMwPtiAFHRW4Y98ls0RNJ-wl6gfzZjo9iOXMO5cCgCm8C-Xyjo1pDRXL0KYKUoaec3MsnxbhhrbApGh3J3KmldHs4uKwbXsqjHzutR941zC-7uXmL8RACABXmWCwAA=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this aged poorly</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>To me, GCW is like the off-broadway version of today's wrestling landscape, and I mean that as a huge compliment. It won't always be perfect and have the greatest showmanship and performances every single night, but you better believe that there is an incredible amount of talent and waaay more heart there which makes it stand out. I was young when ECW was in it's final days, but I still remember being blown away by it as a kid, and I still enjoy throwing on their old shows via in the interwebs. It had that punk, indie, low budget feel to it, but it was so damn authentic that it was hard not to watch it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I feel the same exact way about GCW.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5GmSLGwGf96Jg-eR8p7uXIs4vZcpxF848ciOz0q5y4okVI78MOP8tNUSEeGGQR6vAnVnZD4-NhLxcECQBHjpQPZ0hHiQNYCK-SustsRtDm_7sTIJ7eTFKZftZmy_G5JTZkAM5U2zkt6eNGTI0ktMbGAt6YSzaICRgUW2hu2zyWr-5QCaFPiyJ6nQsIA=s366" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="366" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5GmSLGwGf96Jg-eR8p7uXIs4vZcpxF848ciOz0q5y4okVI78MOP8tNUSEeGGQR6vAnVnZD4-NhLxcECQBHjpQPZ0hHiQNYCK-SustsRtDm_7sTIJ7eTFKZftZmy_G5JTZkAM5U2zkt6eNGTI0ktMbGAt6YSzaICRgUW2hu2zyWr-5QCaFPiyJ6nQsIA=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sheesh.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>I first took real notice of GCW with the whole Jon Moxley and Nick Gage faceoff at Spring Break of Wrestlemania Weekend. They really got Mox? They got the biggest star of AEW to show up to a basically a parking lot to face their new champ with a bunch of light tubes and shit? The intrigue was there immediately. I already knew some of the names in GCW, mostly Joey Janela, Nick Gage, Allie Katch and Effy, but suddenly I took way more notice of who was there and what they had going on over in GCW. Also, it was hard not to ignore the legend of Jimmy Lloyd, who had just recently (unofficially) joined WWE's Hurt Business that same weekend Mox showed up. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSqaLm07vWSzggzSFipm64qz4_b4izSN3oQg0X0Np1Vx1N2oJFfUWbkBNzRz8FE2E8KTlxhiXdNy_LFr_AzD-UTZL0ByCKhQCABoBGfq7GJXZ1QwKF6rhN5pN3blJTqAm7uvJX01wcFdSm_IHQIGSVF62UChhoikw6k3xgPADHxS2HLtWYTiBQCpRUaA=s498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="498" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSqaLm07vWSzggzSFipm64qz4_b4izSN3oQg0X0Np1Vx1N2oJFfUWbkBNzRz8FE2E8KTlxhiXdNy_LFr_AzD-UTZL0ByCKhQCABoBGfq7GJXZ1QwKF6rhN5pN3blJTqAm7uvJX01wcFdSm_IHQIGSVF62UChhoikw6k3xgPADHxS2HLtWYTiBQCpRUaA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>For me, you can throw on any GCW or ECW show and not worry so much about storylines. You can tell immediately that whoever is out there is just there to kick ass, and quite frankly, it's refreshing as hell. You never know who is going to show up, and trying to guess outcomes is pointless. Just in the last couple of months, GCW has hosted Mick Foley, Kevin Nash and Sabu(!). They've worked with a bunch of big name AEW and Ring of Honor stars, numerous Japanese wrestlers (Minoru Suzuki was still wild to me personally), and countless other legends who can still hang today (2Cold Scorpio and Ricky Morton, I'm looking at you dudes). You don't know what you're gonna get at any GCW show, and that's what makes it so damn exciting. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fast forward a bit and I've bought my fair share of shows they've put on, and I haven't been disappointed yet. I love that you have such a mix of competition and styles. You obviously have the brutal deathmatch shit, but you also get incredibly skilled lucha matches and classic mat wrestling in the mix as well. The cast of characters is pretty wide ranging as well. If you were to tell me a year or so ago that I would willingly buy a show that had Zack Ryder in the main event, I would've thought you were crazy. If you had told me he would be fighting Nick fuckin' Gage in a deathmatch that would involved light tubes, tacks, staples doors, whatever the hell else they could use, and then a riot would breakout in the crowd, I really would've thought you were off your damn rocker. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAYojsO-Tx-2yIlN4KEq8ZiMOX42Q6fIv2uGDhWYVAKmLFBpwONE6imt6regBOL0TPAhmUCs6wFYdqMjw0utv0DUGLRqFTrlnikluo4TiRQjyuj2MZem-5S8hpgFjFTX45K4W3jIwirNeOksrOCVwO3LWHvU1pVbGDKHQdlYzDCP81nkxTPwxXEiaWjw=s696" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="696" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAYojsO-Tx-2yIlN4KEq8ZiMOX42Q6fIv2uGDhWYVAKmLFBpwONE6imt6regBOL0TPAhmUCs6wFYdqMjw0utv0DUGLRqFTrlnikluo4TiRQjyuj2MZem-5S8hpgFjFTX45K4W3jIwirNeOksrOCVwO3LWHvU1pVbGDKHQdlYzDCP81nkxTPwxXEiaWjw=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>As annoying Ryder..no...Matt Cardona is (which I guess means he's doing a damn good job), I give him all the credit in the world for reinventing himself since his release. Love him or hate him, any wrestling fan knew he didn't get a fair shake with the idiots in Stamford. I'd give him more credit and praise but I'm still pissed off he beat Joey Janela so...I'll stop there. Besides him, there's so much talent there and up and coming guys that it's going to be a lot of fun to keep watching. Blake Christian is going to be a stud. Jordan Oliver and Nick Wayne has crazy bright futures. Then you even have guys like PCO still doing the damn thing. They have dudes like Alex Colon and Second Gear Crew who I hope I NEVER spill a drink of theirs at a bar. GCW is another destination for wrestlers to go and do their own thing, which is great for the business. McMahon had a stranglehold on this business for too long, but the tides are kinda starting to turn. </div><div><br /></div><div>The easy thing to do is just compare it to ECW back in the day. I hope that doesn't offend them in any way with that comp, it's just...kinda true. Back in the 90's and early 00's you had WWF/E having their dick measuring contest with a floundering WCW, and you had ECW right there in the wings doing their own crazy shit with a rabid cult following. I don't think it's unfair to say right now that we have a new peak in wrestling, just some of the cards have been shuffled. Now, WWE is the new floundering WCW (seriously, a scooter race next Monday), AEW is the WWF/E and GCW is the new ECW. (On a quick side note, it really is amazing how WWE has dropped the ball with NXT2.0. They had a good thing going and they crashed and burned like Antonio Brown on the Buccaneers. Sad!). To me, GCW is their own brand of wrestling and it's just as enjoyable as AEW. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMAv2g1Gx3hfg8ql4b2gWEk3axpfEwqMaGwim2ZM409dfFqSWu2bJGsB2ot6Wk7cK8dGCQ6a9x-sRWFaGhIeqdoZp1E7lWZgpWUj5kaY2uPC590XqNla-CuesyyOc-ky5c27Sv4bnjIRA0QcXb8FCIp-uS-rTIPtI7GIPJgnnLqvaKNPSQ7Vnil31Kzw=s498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="498" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMAv2g1Gx3hfg8ql4b2gWEk3axpfEwqMaGwim2ZM409dfFqSWu2bJGsB2ot6Wk7cK8dGCQ6a9x-sRWFaGhIeqdoZp1E7lWZgpWUj5kaY2uPC590XqNla-CuesyyOc-ky5c27Sv4bnjIRA0QcXb8FCIp-uS-rTIPtI7GIPJgnnLqvaKNPSQ7Vnil31Kzw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just rearranging the living room a bit...</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>This past Sunday night GCW sold out the Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City and put on a hell of a show. It had the grit and crazy spots that it should have. Not everything was perfect, which was perfectly fine at the same time. I almost had to watch that opening brass ring ladder match through my fingers due to some of those crazy ass spots. The Joey Janela/Cardona match was a clusterfuck in the best way possible. I loved the crazy twists and turns, the return of X-Pac, the nod to Edge with Brian Myers coming out in the motorcycle helmet, it was so chaotic and fun and had the crowd truly amped up. You felt the disappointment when Allie Katch lost to Ruby Soho, but hey, that just means she's over as hell to the GCW faithful, and that's something to be proud of, isn't it? Team Gringo vs. Team Bandido was a banger that had some moves that I had never seen before, which is something that seems to happen more often than now in GCW. The entire show, really, was something else. Hell, you even got Jeff Jarrett to have a relevant match in 2022 thanks to Effy! </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgG8ECGQoGTZRYef3m9N79yFmIwEZcObh_-Zw9EWM-AQeUK52dcYgiBPkFecnltNTdpR-uGwA02-ewDaOsn7x0VUy1L7Q_xNut-ZHwtatfywaSYeN7xzHxn82Nv_N5nUrsPBeM7Vrw8ufE5hVZ3IjvCpjl-LpO3E0G86ZEd-eR4o-CQ7JwxRajDpAqUsg=s400" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="400" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgG8ECGQoGTZRYef3m9N79yFmIwEZcObh_-Zw9EWM-AQeUK52dcYgiBPkFecnltNTdpR-uGwA02-ewDaOsn7x0VUy1L7Q_xNut-ZHwtatfywaSYeN7xzHxn82Nv_N5nUrsPBeM7Vrw8ufE5hVZ3IjvCpjl-LpO3E0G86ZEd-eR4o-CQ7JwxRajDpAqUsg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor Effy, I like that Effy!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Although the match itself was brief, the main event was memorable just for the return of the King himself, Nick F'n Gage as a surprise opponent. I love the shot of some of the fans on the stage when Dewey Donovan made his zombie-like way to the crowd. Their faces were just in disbelief that in any second that bell was going to go dong and they weren't gonna go crazy for the Undertaker. No, that bell tolling was Metallica's "For Whom The Bell Tolls" which can only mean one thing: Nick Fucking Gage. MDK all day, and at the end of the day it was the perfect way to go out. Nick Gage getting the crowd into an absolute frenzy. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj70be89ar6QVlp3xwB5kYaZnKSmeI_CnWEiqRE_wKJYkPevtZVlRT8c0Ww5BjtVbg7M9y3OX62el8x_yIfUE_Ski8HqSHqALLVjmseZlbBLpxv_HK8S0RwiwzW6ecJehCG7uHCa5hMb2XoK83FPUI-BdlOxXGXaHFiaAzIvQkzjvis_J_Qf1pO_63m0w=s632" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="632" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj70be89ar6QVlp3xwB5kYaZnKSmeI_CnWEiqRE_wKJYkPevtZVlRT8c0Ww5BjtVbg7M9y3OX62el8x_yIfUE_Ski8HqSHqALLVjmseZlbBLpxv_HK8S0RwiwzW6ecJehCG7uHCa5hMb2XoK83FPUI-BdlOxXGXaHFiaAzIvQkzjvis_J_Qf1pO_63m0w=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ensuing Chaos, sponsored by PBR</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>I absolutely mean it when I saw bravo to Brett Lauderdale and the GCW crew. The haters are gonna hate, but no matter what, you guys sold out the legendary Hammerstein Ballroom, and you have more eyeballs on your company than ever. This was your show to prove everyone wrong, and you did. People may look back years from now and view The WRLD on GCW as one of those game-changing (pun absolutely intended) nights for the company. Long live GCW.</div>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-87361431077578680872022-01-11T22:35:00.000-05:002022-01-11T22:35:55.219-05:00Is This Thing On?<p> Dilly Dilly!!</p><p>Just kidding. I wanted to see if anyone would get faked out by that opening line and check to make sure this wasn't a post from 2017. I've decided that now that I have a much more relaxing living situation in an apartment that *sparks joy*, it's about time I channeled this inner good vibes and creative juices and start writing again. Not really for anyone in particular, just myself to shake the cobwebs off. Also, it really helps that it is 9 degrees (Fahrenheit) out so it's not like I was going to go on a run or anything pointless like that. No, no. Why not get back into the swing of things with nonsense.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgu6Z0UOWe4xXjot4JtZnL5RviBDeTrtWy_Q6QGI7gyOvmwLm-PRnxVU3XlEeOz2NdiXDC6Fd73jS-iPV7Gdu9o-EN45_pMVzc7NrF2P29OBEWecu85K8M420zJH4WlHQEnLU7igeQLh5kyEp6f6eWEjikOU5lkXroharTDKl28dEdRis__9ak1952JhQ=s480" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgu6Z0UOWe4xXjot4JtZnL5RviBDeTrtWy_Q6QGI7gyOvmwLm-PRnxVU3XlEeOz2NdiXDC6Fd73jS-iPV7Gdu9o-EN45_pMVzc7NrF2P29OBEWecu85K8M420zJH4WlHQEnLU7igeQLh5kyEp6f6eWEjikOU5lkXroharTDKl28dEdRis__9ak1952JhQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>In these pandemic times, like literally everyone, I've been watching my fair share of content. Now I could do a rundown of what I liked best and what was the worst yadda yadda, but I'd like to pinpoint one documentary I watched recently that was truly batshit crazy. That would have to be the Curse of Von Dutch. Oh yeah. The douchey trucker hat company that you absolutely associate with Ashton Kutcher during his Punk'd days. Now I must admit when I heard they made a documentary about Von Dutch I kind of wrote it off as just a time capsule for that kind of amazing(ly brutal) fashion, but it was SO much more than that. Somehow I went my entire life not knowing squat about it (aka I was in middle/high school when it was big and had bigger fish to fry like chicks and street hockey). </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnutEOv34ElI3R2Goh9leNNzlyuylfl5yg3lvYtVS-Wd0MMbFveE1rqVERUcn3gDNKzdxB51BeXImipNsSXfV_qju9Sj5TQClOA3UpFrDOZHMM0-EkuoR0CcyUk5O2lETsGvc1Qjzyr3irEaMTxIz1x96EB26tIMWfcsDvPN0mq7inAbO7wvW3Rvie-Q=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnutEOv34ElI3R2Goh9leNNzlyuylfl5yg3lvYtVS-Wd0MMbFveE1rqVERUcn3gDNKzdxB51BeXImipNsSXfV_qju9Sj5TQClOA3UpFrDOZHMM0-EkuoR0CcyUk5O2lETsGvc1Qjzyr3irEaMTxIz1x96EB26tIMWfcsDvPN0mq7inAbO7wvW3Rvie-Q=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RIP! And RIP Anna Nicole Smith too.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I'm not joking your ass, there is murder, cartels, a big question of who actually owned the damn brand, studded belts, a crazy coked-up Frenchman and a Dutch Olympic Taekwondo medalist who tried to become Hollywood's next action hero. That's just the tip of the iceberg. I hadn't been so fascinated by a douche filled shitshow since that season of the Bachelor starring Juan Pablo. Between the Ed Hardy shirts, old footage of Paris Hilton and the incredible transformation from Von Dutch to Von Douche, it is a wild ride on the Hulu machine and I'd recommend to anyone. I hope to God they make one on the rise of 4Loko as well. That one I know I lived through. Barely.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_2FVas_0tqgEGe0aShttRri9x6-xWTNQWyMTdrAaFgCgqtj-39aqL7mc019x-lBgr2UI4wKx6Mm8VXVZcXOntO0Mwawcree8lWxANgo-Sna-ebTMgQIeExfNi_7oDy9r0ZYm5sv2IHwmeAuW-gVsc9tNAnNzcGXb99LipuPQFf3yHT9Ntbd13Eu8Vzg=s709" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="709" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_2FVas_0tqgEGe0aShttRri9x6-xWTNQWyMTdrAaFgCgqtj-39aqL7mc019x-lBgr2UI4wKx6Mm8VXVZcXOntO0Mwawcree8lWxANgo-Sna-ebTMgQIeExfNi_7oDy9r0ZYm5sv2IHwmeAuW-gVsc9tNAnNzcGXb99LipuPQFf3yHT9Ntbd13Eu8Vzg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p>Betty White passed away the other day at 99 which wasn't a great end to 2021. If I can learn one thing from her amazing life, it's that if People magazine comes to me offering a special edition about me turning 100, I'm turning that shit down. I know suspect People magazine has some evil voodoo surrounding it and I will continue my streak of looking at the cover when I'm waiting in line at the grocery store and not turning a single page. It's the safe thing to do.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCjfzsP0MN1EpgGdAH9aVV-fvTUx0Rx1qBgHb7FYsTWBXU2hv0gtLPlye6jR9sOXq_CDc41ea9CjAnGVMTq2dZHz6NUDOqV8ky6KjjzARToY-UMGeUpD9_I2HrMazbB0pFkRVJTRgJV-BnoaqXZQ7jm1WrREDiniyiu9WC7M-tD_qZONAhntHikccuIw=s498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="371" data-original-width="498" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCjfzsP0MN1EpgGdAH9aVV-fvTUx0Rx1qBgHb7FYsTWBXU2hv0gtLPlye6jR9sOXq_CDc41ea9CjAnGVMTq2dZHz6NUDOqV8ky6KjjzARToY-UMGeUpD9_I2HrMazbB0pFkRVJTRgJV-BnoaqXZQ7jm1WrREDiniyiu9WC7M-tD_qZONAhntHikccuIw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>With Betty gone, there is one question: who is the most beloved person in the nation now? As fucked up as the world is these days, Betty White was basically the one thing we could all gather round and agree that she was a hell of a gal. Luckily for all of you, I am writing this blog and like to make lists, so here are my three (no order) best options to become the next sacred celebrity for America.</p><p>1.Keanu Reeves- He's basically there already. Plus he is much hunkier than Betty White (that's not shade, it's just the truth. He can even make riding a Vespa look manly). The man revitalized his career unlike anyone I can think of. Ol John Wick gave us a true renaissance for Keanu, and by all accounts he seems to be one of the nicest dudes ever. He even dates women his own age! How rare is that for celebs in this day and age? Near unheard of. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-3f8sKMRmkSQ_M4R_jOJkn0wgiOuMt5iy4ss8Vlm0SrJNYoKkR8cZImHXHp9oqnnd3IuvZPU9-7SGjY2IjbrMmcMeBHjkxfFE3oM_qU39iqFYskGvGMXxZJK9ObSuZZDZWqoxL3ntO8DKpzEKjcoehE5z6SpJHZe0ImTx5En0YMmmcENhPbMtDn7Wgg=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-3f8sKMRmkSQ_M4R_jOJkn0wgiOuMt5iy4ss8Vlm0SrJNYoKkR8cZImHXHp9oqnnd3IuvZPU9-7SGjY2IjbrMmcMeBHjkxfFE3oM_qU39iqFYskGvGMXxZJK9ObSuZZDZWqoxL3ntO8DKpzEKjcoehE5z6SpJHZe0ImTx5En0YMmmcENhPbMtDn7Wgg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I Know!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>2. Cher- I mean, how can you not love Cher? Iconic singer. Iconic in Moonstruck. Aged gracefully. She is a straight shooter who tells it like it is. Men should listen to her more and they will realize that her word should be gospel! If I Could Turn Back Time (see what I did there) I wish we could've gotten her into politics a long time ago. The country would be in much better hands. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghjNLiK7-_zxxp1XcTXj-EYMunv_D25Yb7C1RJ9mLDhn5rQ6IxMCGIOKP1MeuzRN4ZwEsyhTbdi3gjUzjqxbmqCK7ckF5R8xgDiXRfjDSCUiom3HFuamgqmTWjJN3pV5HPjswI89rdmKNcN_DO2RHJir6-EXv9NiOd1GNj9zcdVLQGz_mxEnmfP9LGNQ=s365" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="365" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghjNLiK7-_zxxp1XcTXj-EYMunv_D25Yb7C1RJ9mLDhn5rQ6IxMCGIOKP1MeuzRN4ZwEsyhTbdi3gjUzjqxbmqCK7ckF5R8xgDiXRfjDSCUiom3HFuamgqmTWjJN3pV5HPjswI89rdmKNcN_DO2RHJir6-EXv9NiOd1GNj9zcdVLQGz_mxEnmfP9LGNQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>3. Guy Fieri- Why the hell not. The mayor of Flavortown is someone we can all get behind. Yes he is basically a walking caricature with his dad jokes, frosted tips and white sunglasses resting gingerly on the back of his head, but he stays true to himself. Isn't that what we all need in this day and age? No one can stay mad at Guy. You may want to hate him at first for...well, everything about his look and demeanor really, but you have to admit that he's a charming bastard. The guy just wants to cook a lot of greasy food, add some kickass sauce to everything, and cruise up and down this country. It's hard not to respect it. Winner winner, chicken dinner, you corny son of a bitch. Never change!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg47AO8ANpgCs5a5oi84WIcxKRcSXc1sUvjrP8MxMwaUkuhNeBmkRf1deCLPxvxs2r-iknD49Iqpi2zRTxSbNcsCnJalreXy1nFr_UF9VAJpbzGY4mHpKIFjPenpAbYuyRBnteKrjGnWMrU142IX8C3z2MhgEBPipIVD9SoSOg71gWyMWb9PIcT4OogFA=s480" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg47AO8ANpgCs5a5oi84WIcxKRcSXc1sUvjrP8MxMwaUkuhNeBmkRf1deCLPxvxs2r-iknD49Iqpi2zRTxSbNcsCnJalreXy1nFr_UF9VAJpbzGY4mHpKIFjPenpAbYuyRBnteKrjGnWMrU142IX8C3z2MhgEBPipIVD9SoSOg71gWyMWb9PIcT4OogFA=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fear.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The other day we got a gift from the internet Gods when we saw Elmo (of Sesame Street, not the fire) lose his mind on some rock and whoever the hell Zoey is. Zoey wasn't there in the early 90's right? If so I did a great job of blocking her out I guess. Nonetheless, Elmo lost his shit when Zoey's pet rock named Rocco was going to eat an oatmeal raisin cookie and it was just absolutely glorious. Elmo, as always, made a lot of valid points that Rocco doesn't have a mouth and can't enjoy a cookie and this whole thing is stupid and then he basically walked off set and demanded a raise.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZb7Tb9rb8fj3hDPJgbJQKGS7vXjevF0MSKmw7fO3lCloqZ9hQcHk39PGwGJILMvlZ_c_QT8TeUXaGI6lUSpHKXgK7L9q61G2tptBtIG7AKN1b93Wz6CAoMKHks_39raEY7R2txlv9dOtquThn3lgD-dBHtvqMgHnsGsAVwCEyNGXcKKP_z-v2-aQ8lA=s220" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="143" data-original-width="220" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZb7Tb9rb8fj3hDPJgbJQKGS7vXjevF0MSKmw7fO3lCloqZ9hQcHk39PGwGJILMvlZ_c_QT8TeUXaGI6lUSpHKXgK7L9q61G2tptBtIG7AKN1b93Wz6CAoMKHks_39raEY7R2txlv9dOtquThn3lgD-dBHtvqMgHnsGsAVwCEyNGXcKKP_z-v2-aQ8lA=w400-h260" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see the calm drain from him.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Seeing Elmo lose his mind like that was truly inspiring. He had no time for these games of a stupid pet rock and the nonsense that came along with it. Personally, I find it a great lesson for kids that sometimes it is perfectly fine to snap on stupid people. In the real world, you deal with morons like this Zoey puppet. You can only take so much, but at the end of the day we are all human and we can only take so much. Stupid people need to learn when they are being stupid, and Elmo is not going to sell out and pretend everything is hunky dory. Children should not tolerate stupidity!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggZuGAFKx9wzTOQe58x5KukoNu6K7iDdWvzDIRLlntPhWrKRUzvuTfPfeMu5w1qOKfO3zBgbza26sErJ7RRwoLIgsxYMoCgreSGeAyDRXKxZf868o3k-i6_8qI30OIBqK6N5uhTnGGhJhNzUnTDs2f9dbUz9IYqTVb-Uf2YWgoriDShK1oMRiSKP2xaw=s498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="498" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggZuGAFKx9wzTOQe58x5KukoNu6K7iDdWvzDIRLlntPhWrKRUzvuTfPfeMu5w1qOKfO3zBgbza26sErJ7RRwoLIgsxYMoCgreSGeAyDRXKxZf868o3k-i6_8qI30OIBqK6N5uhTnGGhJhNzUnTDs2f9dbUz9IYqTVb-Uf2YWgoriDShK1oMRiSKP2xaw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p>I have nothing but respect for Elmo and the service he is performing for the future of the world. See, this is why Elmo got the tickle me toy back in the day and Oscar the Grouch is still stuck in a damn trash can. God Bless you Elmo. Don't you let stupidity bring you down. This country has gotten stupid enough the past 5 years or so.</p><p>Hey so there's a new Apple Watch commercial which is kinda messed up. It's all 911 calls from people on a farm and parasailing (loser) who overdid it and needed help. I don't like this whole fearmongering approach from apple. You shouldn't be feeling scared of possible emergencies in order to buy apple products. You should be feeling scared about getting made fun of when your texts pop up in green when you text literally everyone else in the world who has an iphone. Isn't that green text humiliation enough as it is? Apple needs to chill out. Most people get it already. </p><p>One thing I hate is the damn targeted ads you get just because you looked up something ONE time or accidentally liked an instagram pic of a boat or something. It really grinds my gears. For instance, I feel really weird that I get a bunch of ads for children's books just because I bought one ONE copy of Where the Wild Things Are for my best friend's daughter. While this mostly is a pain, I did get a laugh recently at one targeted ad. For Christmas my girlfriend bought me this very nice anchor shaped tie clip from Brooks Brothers. Swanky, I know. What is even more swanky is the item that popped up on my instagram feed the other day from the brothers Brooks:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxbLQaVlV6AO_uSpOSeKL37QR1xD_uFkskNS4EtcTRZ3UoIuvB18W1s0NqrejGlyaHqm5LWRigl4fnw7-48sSKmOZLg5U72_At-iGfukF43WYwtBffqjEVYO_6JkXS4WNZBP4AMHK-s1nMnkUaIy1Y4vPoDOULiXoGzYnrH0HJFnN5OtTrZzzBYWEvoA=s1334" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxbLQaVlV6AO_uSpOSeKL37QR1xD_uFkskNS4EtcTRZ3UoIuvB18W1s0NqrejGlyaHqm5LWRigl4fnw7-48sSKmOZLg5U72_At-iGfukF43WYwtBffqjEVYO_6JkXS4WNZBP4AMHK-s1nMnkUaIy1Y4vPoDOULiXoGzYnrH0HJFnN5OtTrZzzBYWEvoA=w225-h400" width="225" /></a></div><br /><p>Well would you look at this dapper dandy! Is this the Ebeneezer Scrooge special? I feel like wearing this to bed would get you 3 different visits from ghosts all asking what the fuck are you wearing? Has Brooks Brothers gone so far over the edge that they are trying to bring back nightgowns? My grandpa was born in 1921 and he would even call those things outdated. What does this guy here change into when he wakes up in his sleeping chambers? Some knickerbockers and a blouse? Are his wooden teeth and powdered wig waiting for him on his nightstand? Does he sit on his Chesterfield and read the morning paper with a monocle? I actually laughed out loud when this ad popped up. I'm almost impressed that I was targeted to purchase one of these bad boys. You know, maybe if Von Dutch comes back into style, I'll start rocking one of these to bed each night.</p><p>Well, that was fun. Let's hope I keep this ball rolling. I can feel the rust being shaken off already. </p><p><br /></p>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-18128866833912763802020-04-26T19:19:00.003-04:002020-04-26T19:19:45.002-04:00Set Phasers to SunThey say if you love something, set it free. If it was meant to be, it will come back in the time of a global pandemic that has caused some stir crazy boredom. Hello all, to quote the terrible "band" Staind, it's been a whiiiiiile.<br />
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I would like to first and foremost apologize to the universe. I recently got a girlfriend (Hi J) and this clearly threw the universe off kilter and now we are dealing with this goddamn Coronavirus and we're all stuck at home wondering why everyone is stocking up on toilet paper. So, my bad on that one, you guys. Anywho, I'm running out things to do. I've gotten very good at darts at the expense of my poor father, who may be writing me out of his will for all this losing he's been dealing with. I'm also getting very good at FIFA on my iPad, at the expense of random Europeans I will never meet. I'm not too concerned about their wills. I am now at a point of wanting to rant and rave, and will do that by making random lists and stating random thoughts out of nowhere! Play the hits, you know?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Top 5 Most Tragic Moments in Popular Music Songs</span><br />
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<b>5. Nicki Minaj- Starships: </b><br />
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Now look, I don't hate this song. It is catchy as all hell, and it brings me back to drinking solo cups of shitty beer in college. Talk about simpler times in about every which way imaginable. Anyways, Starships is a perfectly fine pop/rap song, however there is one part which stands out to me of just...why is it even in there? This of course is:<br />
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<b>Bump in my hoopty-hoopty-hoop I own that</b></div>
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<b>And I ain't paying my rent this month I owe that</b></div>
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<b>But fuck who you want, and fuck who you like</b></div>
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<b>Dance all ya life there's no end in sight</b></div>
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<b>Twinkle, twinkle little star</b></div>
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Ah yes. I mean I could start with whatever bump in my hoopty-hoopty-hoop I own that, but the real issue is the random Twinkle, twinkle little star moment Ms. Minaj throws us. For someone who loves to remind us how much of a self-proclaimed ~*Bad Bitch*~ she is, throwing a nursery line haphazardly in the middle of her biggest hit is a bit of a head-scratcher. How absolutely random. It doesn't even rhyme with anything! It is cringe worthy and it makes me kinda glad Cardi B has taken the spotlight from her. Maybe it would've worked better if she went with Humpty Dumpty instead.</div>
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<b>4. Guns n' Roses- Civil War: </b>Oh Axl. Why did you have to do this to yourself? For those who may not know Civil War, you have this 7 minute and 33 second song that has a long, slow build, with lots of pianos and a surprising heartfelt message that turns into a very good rock song towards the end. It's almost like GnR's own Stairway to Heaven. The thing is, it's a great song...until the very end where Axl just had to go and ruin it. At the 7:13 mark, as the song is starting to fade out with some distorted guitar, some claps of thunder and a bit of whistling, Axl Rose had to go and utter the line "what's so civil about war, anyway?" What a douche.<br />
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You know damn well that Axl, the egomaniac that he is, probably thought this was the most philosophical question since Plato, and he was probably SO proud of it. I guess when you spell your name as an anagram of oral sex (isn't that mind-blowing?) you would probably think that last line was good.<br />
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<b>3. America- Horse With No Name: </b>Dammit Yusef. All I've heard about is how he was supposed to be a prolific songwriter who got all Islamic or something and gave up a promising career. I'm calling shenanigans on all that hype. But Jim, why are you giving Cat such a hard time? Oh I don't know, maybe look to his biggest hit, Horse With No Name and it would appear that he is the Songwriter With No Ideas. Okay so I'm going to be honest I just looked up the lyrics to the song and I am shocked to learn that this was not a Cat Stevens song and actually some band called America. Huh. Well this paragraph took a turn. Anyways, Cat Stevens is off the hook for this one and let me target America (well...not that way). The lyrics in question are:<br />
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<b>On the first part of the journey </b></div>
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<b>I was looking at all the life</b></div>
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<b>There were plants and birds and rocks and things</b></div>
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<b>There was sand and hills and rings</b></div>
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? What the shit? Plants and birds and rocks and THINGS? You really couldn't have thought up anything else than things? How did this song even get popular? First he couldn't even come up with a name for the damn horse and then he can't use anything to use instead of things that rhymes with rings? Also what kind of rings is he even referring to with sand and hills? I had a whole lot more of rant going on here but I'm still in shock it took me 29 years to learn this was not by Cat Stevens. Oh well. Can't win em all.<br />
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<b>2. Kid Rock- Cowboy</b>: It is hard to believe that we can look back at Kid Rock and his awful rock rapper nu-metal cowboy persona and call that his more likable era. Now a days he's just....a real life Joe Dirt.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">simpler times.</td></tr>
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<br /> But for now, let's go back in time to 1998 to examine Cowboy, one of his first breakthrough hits. Just one read through makes you want to hope to God that no one does it at a karaoke bar you're at. After namedropping Heidi Fleiss and rapping about chillin with prostitutes and telling the sheriff he's going to paint his town red and paint his wife white (followed by a very unsettling UHH!) we get to the worst part: inserting his own radio edit on an unedited song.<br />
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<b>Cuss like a sailor, drink like a mick</b></div>
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<b>My only words of wisdom are just (radio edit)</b></div>
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<b>I'm flicking my Bic up and down that coast</b></div>
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<b>And keep on trucking 'til I fall in the ocean</b></div>
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After all his American Badassery in the lyrics leading up to it, what the hell could have been said for him to insert a radio edit? Was he actually saying something nice and he couldn't have that on the record? I can't imagine anything being worse than calling himself a G and referring to a girl as a 'slimmy' but whatever it is had to be edited despite the other swears already in there. It's just laughable to hear it now. Can't wait until he runs out of Lynyrd Skynyrd songs to rip off.<br />
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<b>1. Blessid Union of Souls- Hey Leonardo (She Likes Me For Me):</b> "Bro I'm telling you, these dudes and Eagle Eye Cherry are gonna be the faces of Rock n Roll for years to come!" said Chad, sipping his Zima next to the payphone in 1998. First of all, much respect to these guys for getting all artsy and spelling it 'Blessid'. Artistic geniuses. Don't get me wrong, this song is quite catchy. One of those feel good hits of the summer that could even get Ron Swanson to bop his head a little bit. You know how when songs mention what year it is and it's never a good idea because once it's no longer that year you become incredibly *so last year* and then clubs won't play you anymore? I would like to say a clear example in this song is when he mentions his collection of DVD's (42 seconds in) and this super cool film projector sound plays. Now that is a sound byte that probably seemed amazing 22 years ago and was super inventive but...it's just so cringe worthy now.<br />
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Of course, this sent me down the wormhole and I was in for a treat as the lyrics are even so much worse and does very little to help this song age like a fine wine. Let's take a looky-loo, as there is a lot to mock!<br />
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<b>She likes me for me</b></div>
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<b>Not because I look like Tyson Beckford</b></div>
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<b>With the charm of Robert Redford</b></div>
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<b>Oozing out my ears</b></div>
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Okay even back when this came out, wasn't Robert Redford like 109 years old? Is he anybody else's go-to when you think of charming celebs? What, did he think Paul Newman would be too hard to rhyme or something? Also, who the shit is Tyson Beckford? I am not even going to google him because I kinda like knowing these guys name-dropped a dude in a wildly popular song and I've gone 20 years without knowing who the hell he is. Let's continue.<br />
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<b>She likes me for me</b></div>
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<b>Not because I hang with Leonardo</b></div>
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<b>Or that guy who played in "Fargo"</b></div>
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<b>I think his name is Steve</b></div>
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Outstanding. I highly doubt Blessid Union of Souls was hanging out with Leonardo. I think they would have a better shot of hanging out with Leonardo of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles than hanging out with Leo Dicaprio in real life. Me thinks this dude is liar! And also, I love that they give out a shoutout in their biggest hit song to a guy who played in Fargo, and they're not even sure if his name is Steve. Way to pay attention. Maybe they actually thought Blessed is actually spelled Blessid...<br />
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<b>She likes me for me</b></div>
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<b>Not because I sing like Pavarotti</b></div>
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<b>Or because I am such a hottie</b></div>
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<b>I like her for her</b></div>
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<b>Not because she's phat like Cindy Crawford</b></div>
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<b>She has got so much to offer</b></div>
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Holy shit.<br />
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I mean, wow. First, he compares his voice to the long standing Opera maestro Pavarotti, which is total disrespect to him. The only thing worse than comparing himself to him talent-wise? Realizing 5 seconds later that he only name dropped him so that it would easily rhyme when he calls himself "such a hottie". That sensation you're feeling? Those are called Douche Chills. It's alright, you'll get through it, but just be warned, we ain't done yet, cause we have to discuss that he is comparing his lover to Cindy Crawford. She's phat like Cindy Crawford. Okay, so she's obviously in great shape as CC is a timeless beauty. Calling her 'phat', yes with the ph, is so impressively terrible. Sure, he found a way to call her cool in proper 1998 style and it's kind of a double entendre in a way, but Jesus Christ that's bad. Thank God they were a one hit wonder.<br />
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<ul>
<li>Are we completely certain Will Smith wasn't rapping about Miami, Ohio?</li>
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<ul>
<li>I have now seen the light and despite the twenty year of bringing my fellow New Englanders and I joy, Tom Brady is a douchebag. It doesn't even pain me to say it, if I'm being honest. I was okay and even understood him leaving the Pats for Tampa Bay...but now that he filed trademarks for "Tompa Bay" and "Tampa Brady"? What an ass. Is this what it was like for all you other non-Patriot fans all these years? Was he always this annoying? They aren't even clever. Maybe I'll move down to Tampa and file "Jimpa Bay". It's just as stupid as his, so why not? Oh and by the way, Gronk: you sucked at acting, you sucked with WWE, you were the most obvious contestant on the Masked Singer (so I've been told) and that whole thing where you kept teasing you were coming out of retirement to get Patriot fans hopes up all last year was a dick move. You suck ass too. Nice job ruining your legacy and reputation in the one part of the country you were actually liked, Dumbass.</li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No more high fives for you Thomas.</td></tr>
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<ul>
<li>Do you think Bozo the Clown is proud of the legacy he has left behind? He was such an iconic clown that you can call someone a Bozo and you know exactly what it means. The problem is that you really only call someone a Bozo if they're being dumb, so can it be that great if you're legacy is being mocked? I have a degree in Psychology by the way.</li>
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<ul>
<li>I love the James Bond franchise. Always have, always will. The first big cancellation before everything in the world got cancelled was the next Bond movie No Time to Die which was moved from April to November, and that was when my anger started developing for this stupid virus. The James Bond Franchise is similar to Blink 182, in my opinion. Despite all the serious nature of them, there are always moments that will make you groan and laugh at due to absurd and totally corny moments. With Blink, you can have a super depressing and sad song like 'Adam's Song' appear on an album entitled Enema of the State. With Bond, you can have him save the world from terrorists, evil geniuses, nuclear bombs, and the like, all with some of the most corny one liners and oddly named characters in an other wise serious film. It's almost like it was a game that got turned into a tradition of "Hey I wonder if this will get by the censors" and they've continued to push it to this very day. This next list was inspired by yours truly watching a Pierce Brosnan (great Bond with unfortunate screenplays to work with) era movie with a character that I swear was given her name solely so the final line/joke of the movie could be told, and this was just one of many, so let's look at em!</li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Top 6 Most Absurd Bond Girl Names Ever:</span><br />
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<b>6. Dr. Christmas Jones (The World is Not Enough)</b>: So this is the one that started the idea for this list. First off, Dr. Christmas Jones is a nuclear physicist played by Denise Richards. Yes. Denise Richards. Nuclear physicist. As if that isn't funny enough, you know she was named Christmas for one reason, and one reason only: the final line of the movie. Spoiler alert, Bond saves the world and the final scene cuts to them having a ~shag~ and Bond, that silver tongued devil, says "I was wrong about you." Dr. Jones then says "Yeah? How so?" and that's when Bond says "I thought Christmas only comes once a year." The end.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the video game depiction didn't do her justice</td></tr>
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<b>5. Xenia Onatopp (GoldenEye):</b> For the first time in history, the name Xenia is upstaged by a last name. Maybe the censor just assumed it was Russian orthodox or something?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sultry!</td></tr>
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<b>4. Dr. Molly Warmflash (The World Is Not Enough, yes again)</b>: Gadzooks! I would love to be the person who suggested this as a character name and watch it go through the whole process of being made into a movie without it being changed. I hope he or she won a bet with someone that the name would make it into the movie, because it is impressively bad.<br />
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<b>3. Plenty O'Toole (Diamonds Are Forever)</b>: A nice common Irish name just has to go and get ruined by the only 'first name' that could make it dirty. I think this name would be even too lame for a cheesy porno to use, but it's perfectly fine for a Bond film. Go figure. Successful franchise!<br />
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<b>2. Holly Goodhead (Moonraker)</b>: In Moonraker, Bond has to find who stole a space shuttle, which leads him to outer space where he has to stop a plot to end the world's population and the start of a new master race on the moon. All of that fails in comparison to the absurdly named astronaut/CIA agent/Scientist Holly Goodhead. Her father must've hated middle school with a name like that.<br />
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<b>1. Pussy Galore (Gold Finger)</b>: The exact opposite of my college experience! Dear God. I think of all the stupid pun names to come out of Hollywood, this takes the cake. Seriously, not just in Bond films, ALL films. This movie came out in 1964 and I bet you can't think of a more absurd name. Of course, there is an iconic (I guess) line where she meets James Bond and tells him that her name is Pussy Galore where a confused Bond says "I must be dreaming". I'd call it a sexual innuendo but its not even an innuendo because it's just so so blatant. There is no beating around the bush on this one. Oh God, that one wasn't on purpose I swear. I'm gonna keep it in the blog though.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that google image search did not go so well.</td></tr>
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<ul>
<li>Isn't it weird that Fun Size and Party Size are two very different things? Like a fun sized snickers bar is very lacking and hardly satisfies anyone's hunger, yet a party sized bag of, say, Smartfood is just an absurd amount for one person. Yet, parties are fun and go hand in hand with each other...so shouldn't they be more similar than opposite? Once again, I have a degree in psychology.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>One of the tragic losses from COVID-19 in pop culture was Adam Schlesinger, one of the founding members of Fountains of Wayne. I felt nostalgic about that one as in the 8th grade my friend Jordan would always bring a boombox on the back of our school bus (complete with 16 D batteries) and he had a mix cd that featured Stacy's Mom and Mexican Wine by them on it (along with 3 of Chingy's biggest hits). I went down the Wikipedia wormhole and learned a slew of info, including that Fountains of Wayne was named after a lawn ornament store in New Jersey, that name replaced their former band name of Three Men Who When Standing Side By Side Have a Wingspan of Over Twelve Feet (yes seriously). This of course led to the Stacy's Mom music video, which in turn made me look up who was it who played the Mom (just out of curiosity! Hi Julie) and learned that it was played by Rachel Hunter who, incredibly, was married to Rod Stewart (she is 24 years younger than him) and also dated Wes Scantlin of Puddle of Mudd, which means she successfully dated the north and south pole of rock stars. Impressive when you think about it. Isn't love funny? Maybe she's the one Wes wrote "She Hates Me" about. Probably a long list of contenders on that one. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Speaking of, if you need a good laugh, watch this cover Puddle of Mudd did of Nirvana's 'About a Girl' at a radio station about 2 months ago. It is such an incredible train wreck that you will actually laugh out loud knowing that they are a professional band.</li>
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<ul>
<li>Can you guys believe Gwyenth Paltrow made a candle ($75) that is scented like her hoo-ha? I feel like this would have been a bigger story but everything has been so batshit crazy this year that it just kind of fits into the scheme of things. I am fascinated by this entire process. I can't even imagine the amount of walking on egg shells that had to take place during meetings discussing things with Gwyenth about what do we name it or how do we describe the scent. I am fascinated by this story and may need a tell-all book at some point. By the way, naming it 'This Smells Like My Vagina' was probably the safest name they could have rolled with.</li>
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<ul>
<li>I do not talk politics on this blog because nothing good can come of it. That being said? I would like to congratulate anyone who voted for a guy who suggested that it is worth looking into injecting Lysol to cure COVID-19, or maybe use the Sun's UV rays to enter the body to destroy this 'invisible enemy'. Nice going on that one. When you're soaking up all those UV rays from the Sun and all that Vitamin D for Dumbass, remember who suggested it and how he got into office. Set your phasers to Sun! It really is like an unfunny Michael Scott is in charge of running the US. Sad!</li>
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<ul>
<li>Not gonna lie, I'm kind of tired of people calling Tom Hanks "America's Dad". He already has 3 very different sons and sure he's a good actor and all but...why him? Dude's best friend was a volleyball at one point. Kinda weird. I'll give you three better options for America's Dad right here, right now:</li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3 Better Contenders for America's Dad Not Named Tom Hanks:</span><br />
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<b>1. Red Foreman</b>- Tough, firm, willing to stick his foot up your ass. Red is a real man's man and that cannot be argued. Also I respect his love of flannel shirts. Game respects game!<br />
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<b>2. Phil Banks</b>- Now I know he is more commonly viewed as Uncle Phil and maybe he should be "America's Uncle" but c'mon the man was a loving father who willingly took in Will from West Philadelphia to give him a charmed life in Bel-Air. If that doesn't get you bonus points for being an overall good guy (plus a successful career as a lawyer, means he's driven and has brains) then I don't know what can.<br />
<br />
<b>3. Dr. Evil</b>- We need him more now than ever.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t1KhlKq-mFM/XqYWCX7lFrI/AAAAAAAAB64/BDnG-ZpvfiUmcj6re8-xZATSWfS_7INRwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/dr%2Bevil.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="350" height="230" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t1KhlKq-mFM/XqYWCX7lFrI/AAAAAAAAB64/BDnG-ZpvfiUmcj6re8-xZATSWfS_7INRwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/dr%2Bevil.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I can't believe Kim Jong-Un had to go and get all brain dead right before his buddy Dennis Rodman's episode of the Last Dance was to appear on ESPN tonight. Timing is everything, Rocketman. Oh, well. That's what ya get.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YHXWgNiLqe8/XqYWSKWe0OI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bQOgKV0HVJo3ViVM3fHjBkWvRp6r-GeWwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/rodman%2Bkim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="858" height="199" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YHXWgNiLqe8/XqYWSKWe0OI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bQOgKV0HVJo3ViVM3fHjBkWvRp6r-GeWwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/rodman%2Bkim.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">friends til the end! this is the end.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Finally, I would just like to say that this has been refreshing blogging again. Of course I say this after I had most of the blog completely done before everything but the opening paragraph was deleted because Blogspot sucks and it took me about 2 weeks and a million anger beers to get over it, but still! Hope everyone stays safe out there, and I'll have more material for a new blog in a week or two. Getting into the swing of things again, ya know?<br />
<br />
Live. Laugh. Loathe.<br />
<br /></div>
Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-79821864722763097242019-02-02T20:46:00.000-05:002019-02-05T19:14:43.232-05:00The Girl With the Modest Mouse Tattoo<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“These guys suck,” I said
to Amanda. She was adjusting the flower crown that she wore just to annoy me.
Apparently, Coachella was still an influence here at the Boston Calling Music
Festival.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah, they’re even
douchier in person. They don’t even sound all that great,” she said. The
guitarist, manbun and all, tossed his Strat up in the air. I think most of the
crowd had hoped that it would hit him in the face. We weren’t that lucky. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I don’t think they’re
all that bad!” said my buddy Andrew. He was on acid or something, dancing by
himself in khakis and the ugliest Hawaiian shirt I’ve ever seen. You really
have to be a people person to deal with the crowds of people swaying and
bobbing, some bumping, some grinding, I was starting to wish I had a hit of whatever
Andrew was on to deal with it myself. He kept on rubbing his chest and snapping
his fingers, happy as can be. No one seemed to really mind. I guess nothing
could really be that bad when you were in his state of mind, bless him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Boston Calling was smaller
than most music festivals. It was compact for a music festival with only two
stages and various food trucks all crammed in to a Government Center right in downtown
Boston. The two stages meant it was kind of hard to avoid this sham of a band
while waiting for Modest Mouse to come on the other stage and close out the
night. Like with most festivals, I was annoyed by the thrush of people bumping
into me, the (at least) 15-minute wait in line to get beers at $10 apiece and the
heat that was already in full Summer mode despite it being just Memorial Day
weekend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Coachella took place in a desert,
Lollapalooza in a park and Bonnaroo…wherever the hell that was, Boston Calling
taking in place in a city wasn’t the most ideal location comfort wise. Plenty
of bricks that made up the ground were either broken or missing and had likely
turned more ankles than Allen Iverson in his prime. We were surrounded by high
rise apartments, ugly concrete buildings that at one point were considered ‘state
of the art’, and of course, drunk Bostonians. This festival served as the
unofficial kickoff to summer, featuring the return of sundresses (delightful!)
and flower crowns (terrible). I was already annoyed in the never ending beer
line listening to someone named Chad in front of me complaining about this Cape
Cod house not being ‘lit’ enough because his dad wouldn’t get new jet skis.
Maybe I was just bitter I had another Summer with nothing planned. Or maybe it
was a lack of jet skis in my life. Either way I was already kind of annoyed when
someone tapped me on my shoulder. As one does, I turned around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yo you wanna buy me
beer?” said some kid swarmy teen in Rayban’s and an Oasis shirt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sorry Pal” I told him,
hoping that would be that. It wasn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“C’mon man I got money I just
need you to buy me some Sam Adams,” the youth said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah Owen, buy the kid a
beer. It’s a good deed to help the young and thirsty,” Amanda was tormenting me
again. This had happened a million times since we were in preschool together. It
was her favorite pastime. She didn’t even bother to hide the smirk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I THINK EVERYONE SHOULD
BE HAPPY!” yelled out Andrew. Man of the people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I looked at the kid. He
probably wasn’t even 15 yet. That was me once. I thought back to how many times
I successfully got someone else to buy me beer at that age. I quickly
remembered I was<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>successful at that a
whopping 0 times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Nah, sorry man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why not?” The balls on
this kid!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because I just don’t
want to,” I told him truthfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Bro give me one good
reason why not,” he said. I noticed there were a couple friends of his hiding </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">behind him, hoping to ride his coattails for a couple sips each.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ll give you plenty,” I
got ready to unload. I cleared my throat and took a sip of my own overpriced
Budweiser just to make him jealous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Number one, you may be a
cop,” That one got a confused look out of him. “Number two, no one ever bought
me beer when I was your age, so why should I do the same for you. In fact I’m envious
that the only problem you have to worry about is getting beer at such a tender
young age. Thirdly, and most importantly, Oasis fucking sucks and Blur is way
better. Had you been wearing a Blur shirt, I may have taken pity on you, but you’re
not. Now be gone with you, and good luck getting laid at Prom.” His friends laughed
at his misfortune but they quickly moved on to the next target. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well now that wasn’t
very nice,” Amanda said. “And I swear you will fight that Blur and Oasis debate
until you’re in the grave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s not even a debate.
Blur was a game changer. Oasis was just poppier? Poppier is a word, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re the writer” she
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Let’s roll with it then.
Anyways, millions of braindead people decided that they liked their garbage
more than the genius that is Blur. The masses have terrible taste in music. Boring
people like Oasis.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You think everyone is
boring!” Amanda groaned. She wasn’t wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Exactly, and everyone
likes Oasis. It’s a shame, really. So many perfectly good ears gone to waste.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh God Owen,” Amanda
started, but I was on a roll.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“If you listened to more
Blur instead of stupid Champagne Supernova on repeat every time you were
feeling… I dunno. Wistful? Then you would know that I’m 100% right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re an ass,” she
said. I liked to think that this was her conceding the point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank you darling,” I
said with a bow and a fake Queen’s wave to the crowd. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I LIKE BOTH BLUR
AND OASIS. BRITPOP FOREVER! WONDERWALL AND THE WOOHOO SONG! WONDERWOO!” shouted
Andrew. People in our area were enjoying him and his dancing more than the
boring sack of crap up on stage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Anywho,” I said as I moved
aside for two girls dragging their wasted friend through the crowd, “Are you
excited for Modest Mouse?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah! As long as they
play Float On I’ll be happy.” I was pretty confident that was the one song
Amanda knew by them. She was never into the deep cuts, unless we were talking
Justin Timberlake or someone like that. It dawned on me that this was very on
brand as she was pro-Oasis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The band on stage thanked
the audience for coming out which was the cue for everyone to immediately rush
all at once to the other stage to get ready for Modest Mouse, not even
bothering to hear the last song. The herd of angsty cattle made a mad dash for
it. Andrew went running like the maddest man of them all with his arms flailing
and Amanda followed. She ran like 8 miles a day or something dumb like that so
she had no problem tracking him down. The problem for me was that I wasn’t as
nimble while trying to spill the least amount of beer possible, so I got caught
in the shuffle of the others making their way to the stage. Of course, I didn’t
have any service on my phone and not even Andrew’s garish Hawaiian shirt could
help me spot them. I’d find them afterwards, or at the very least I’d talk to
them tomorrow. We had plans to get breakfast for some reason tomorrow morning.
I hate breakfast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I walked up as far as I
could without any plan of attack. I just moved towards dead center of the stage
until I didn’t feel like asking people to move to let me get right in front of
them, which is asking a lot in this situation. There’s only so many times you
can say “excuse me” and “sorry” before you feel like a pain in everyone’s ass.
I settled on my spot and hoped that I wouldn’t need to take a piss halfway
through, which is a common problem at music festivals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wind was starting to pick up and the sun
was getting ready to say adios to everyone, getting darker every minute we
waited for Modest Mouse to hit the stage. It was like the calm before a musical
storm. I was pretty jazzed to see them play. The rest of the lineup was filled
with rappers I didn’t care about, a couple DJ’s who did whatever button pushing
they did, and a couple bands that ranged from blah to hey not bad, so this was
definitely the highlight of the day. I was happy that I had enough left in my
two beers to last the set and was admiring the giant apartment buildings that served
as the backdrop rising behind the stage. I was lamenting how I’d never be able
to afford rent for a downtown Boston apartment like these when an actual giant
decided to park himself right in front of me. I hated him at first sight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For whatever reason, let’s
blame it on the earlier beers, Steve Irwin’s voice started narrating in my
head, describing the species in front of me: “Oi, look at the pink shorts on
this one with the thousand tiny palm trees on them! You don’t see a vintage
green Shawn Kemp Seattle Super Sonics basketball jersey in the wild these days!
What a perfect specimen this Bro is! Look at his flip flops, the backwards snapback
‘Worthington Lacrosse’ hat and those sunglasses with the stupid straps on them to
really complete the perfect frat look! And the muscles! Look at him! Crikey!”
He definitely only knew the words to Float On. There’s no way a guy dressed
like that at a festival could know any other song that wasn’t their biggest
hit. Not only did I loathe him for, well, everything, but he was at least 6’7
and was now blocking my view. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I wish Andrew was here so
I could have him dance on Bro Montana in front of me and get him uncomfortable
enough to leave. I looked at my surroundings. Things weren’t looking too
promising since everyone was in their respective viewing positions, waiting for
Modest Mouse to come out any second. The only nice thing that I saw as I scanned
around was this chick that had just sifted to the crowd and was now on my left.
I thought I’d need a neck brace after the double take I did when I saw her.
Wavy blonde hair, tanned skin already in mid-Summer form, a couple tattoos and an
Arctic Monkeys US 2016 tour shirt, sweet Jesus. Everyone in the surrounding
area had noticed her gracing us with her presence. I don’t think it was
physically possible for her to go unnoticed anywhere. She’d make a terrible
spy. The Mega Bro in front of me even pushed his sunglasses down to the bridge
of his nose to get a better look at her. It began to speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did you see them on that
tour?” Lord Bro asked the girl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His shot had been fired.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It did not land.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What do you think?” she
asked with an understandable hint of annoyance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I mean, yeah but like,
are you a big fan?” Lord Bro asked. The hole he was digging himself was about
to get a little deeper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Really? You’re seriously
asking me if I’m an Arctic Monkeys fan? That’s really the line you’re going
with here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I was just…” That was
all the Bro managed to get out. This rant was just getting started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do you think I paid 35
bucks for a shirt of a band I don’t like?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This is really funny
coming from a guy in a fucking Shawn Kemp jersey. Did you even see the Sonics
play a game in person?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, no but…” He was stunned.
I was enjoying this immensely. She was quickly turning into my hero.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t you think it’s
hypocritical that you, in a Shawn Kemp jersey are trying to question my fanhood
when you never even saw the Sonics play a game in your life? I saw a 12-year-old
a couple minutes ago in a Nirvana shirt, you gonna go harass him about if he
saw them live?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Whoa, okay you don’t
have to be a such a fucking bitch about it.” His pride had taken a hit, so he was
now resorting to the typical tactic when a shallow guy like Lord Bro doesn’t
get what he wants: call her a bitch. The line had been crossed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“C’mon man, did you
really have to call her a bitch?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Who the FUCK are you, Bro?”
he said, turning to look down on me. As he turned, the Arctic Monkeys girl took
the opportunity to take his beer from him and chug it all in about 2 seconds. I
swear the city of Boston should put a plaque in her honor at this very spot.
She gave him the empty cup back as everyone in the area looked on in various
states of amusement, shock and awe. As he was attempting to pick his jaw up off
the ground, I took the chance to take his stupid Worthington Lax hat and toss
it like a frisbee as far as I could. He shoved me, muttered some swear words about
my mother and ran away to find his hat. I was happy to see that whoever had
caught the hat had decided to throw it again, even further from where we were.
I turned to Wonder Woman on my left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I could’ve handled him
on my own.” She said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh yeah, no doubt in my
mind on that one,” I told her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do you often butt into
other people’s arguments?” She asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Only when it can be
beneficial to me, I guess.” She looked confused at that one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“How did you benefit from
that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did you see how tall
that idiot was? I wouldn’t have been able to see shit with him in front of me,”
I told her. “Plus, you know he was just going to pester you the entire show.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 284.25pt; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 284.25pt; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What
makes you say that?”<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you kidding? You’re
so good looking it makes me want to puke. That frat guy wouldn’t have quit in a
million years. He’d be there until at the bare minimum you’d get annoyed enough
to bite the bullet and take a picture with him so he could lie to his fellow
bros about how he nailed you after the show or something.” I wasn’t sure how
she would take that but she laughed a little bit which I can only consider a
win. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Okay that’s fair. Well
thanks, I guess. I’m Morgan by the way.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m Owen, and trust me,
the pleasure is all mine.” Talk about an understatement. I noticed the tattoo
on her forearm of a hot air balloon with an anchor hanging from the bottom of
it. It was the cover of one of Modest Mouse’s albums. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is a subtle art of
bringing up the tattoos a girl has. On the face of it, it seems like a great
ice breaker in certain situations, but it is much, much more complex than that.
The key is the method of how to bring it up. If you just go with a “I like your
tattoos” or “cool tattoos did they hurt” then you have to be very, VERY handsome
for them not to scoff at your pathetic attempt to begin a conversation. I’m
talking like Ryan Gosling level of good looking. If not, you’ll be met with
eyes rolling harder than a kid at an EDM show. You will be considered lame and
unoriginal if you go with a line like that. It’s a slippery slope, so I was
glad I caught myself before blurting out something that would send things to a
screeching halt. I tried to play it as casual as a dumb guy like myself could
and nodded to the tattoo and said “So I’m guessing you’re looking forward to seeing
them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hell yeah. They’re my
favorite. Last time I saw them was like, 2 years ago when I was living in
Germany. I’m overdue on seeing these guys.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>This stung
as I had been trying to get a bunch of my friends to do a Eurotrip for years
now. I’d always wanted to go to Germany. And also, London. And Italy. And
Spain, Amsterdam, even France. Actually, I’d be willing to go anywhere at this
point. I was in a severe need for a change of scenery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
cool, how long did you live in Germany for?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just
six months. I don’t like to spend a lot of time in one place.” Adventurous! “Where
are you from?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Boston.
I unfortunately do spend a lot of time in one place. Without killing me from
jealousy, where else have you lived?” I had never been so intrigued by someone
else since I stumbled into Slash in a dive bar last year. I had other friends who
traveled and posted how nice things were on Instagram, but she wasn’t just
traveling, she was doing more than that. I immediately had an itch to travel to
wherever she was going next. I didn’t even need to pack a bag at this rate.
Just go to Logan Airport now and fly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well,
I moved to San Francisco for a few months, worked a bit and went to Tokyo for a
couple months. Then I visited China, and then….I think Moscow was after that?
Yeah definitely Moscow. That was weird. Too cold for me. Never underestimate how
cold it is there. I had to trade three pairs of jeans for a fur coat my
neighbor Sergei inherited from his Grandmother at one point. I only lasted a
few weeks and I had to get the hell out and went to Poland. Poland was okay
besides having to wash dishes at the bar I was at my first night there because I
forgot to exchange my money. Made friends with the guys there though and it worked
out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I got
the feeling that she rarely had many dull nights. These days it’s hard for me to
get people out for a drink past 9 on a Friday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“From there I went to
Germany which is where I saw Modest Mouse play at this secret beer garden
called Wassmer’s. I actually got my tattoo that night! Or technically the next
morning or whatever. I had some friends that got me into the bar Modest Mouse was
at after the show and I hung out with them. We all got wasted and I told them I
would get a tattoo right then and there and they said bullshit, so we all went
to a tattoo parlor down the street. It was closed but the guy lived upstairs
and we kept knocking until he came down and he said he would do it for me as
long as we would shut the fuck up,” I think she took a pause to appreciate the stupid
look I imagined was on my dumb face. I was just nodding the whole time trying
to keep up. This chick was living my dream. I wanted to travel. I wanted to get
drunk with bands I liked. I wanted to make stupid/long lasting decisions on a
whim and piss off a German tattoo artist in the wee hours of the morning. I
think I was in love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“From
Germany it was off to London which was great besides the awful food, then I spent
some time in Greece. I lived on a boat there for a bit working as a bartender. That
was a lot of fun. I miss those tips. The Greeks loved me, I guess. Don’t miss
the seagulls though. Those fuckers get nastier the farther out in the ocean you
are. So cranky. Where was I… oh yeah, then I made it to Monaco. I had a great
job as a blackjack dealer in this underground casino until it got shut down. I
had to lay low there for a bit, but it was so beautiful I didn’t mind. I
actually was dealing cards to James Gandolfini right before he dropped dead.
Still have to watch the Soprano’s someday…anyways, then it was Miami and I’ve
been living with some friends doing the whole couch-surfing thing the last 2
weeks, and here I am now talking to you!” She was proud to tell me all of this,
which to me meant she appreciated how lucky she was. She wasn’t someone who would
answer ‘not much’ when you asked what was new every time you saw her. She had all
sorts of stories and secrets and I wanted to know them all. Girls like this
only exist in Indie films with Joseph Gordon-Levitt, not talking to me at a
music festival. You could have told me the world revolved solely around her,
and I’d believe it. I was in such awe of her that I was almost speechless,
trying to think of something, anything, to say just to keep this thing,
whatever it was, going. To be fair, how could anyone follow up her brief yet
amazing summary of her life the last few years? Fortunately, I was saved by some
guy in a scally cap (as if his Dropkick Murphy’s t-shirt didn’t scream Boston loud
enough) walking out to the stage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
is up Boston!? Who’s excited for MODEST MOUSE TO PLAY BOSTON CALLING!?” This
got the usual chorus of woo’s, yeah’s and applause. This guy was really playing
it up to the crowd. That was about to change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So,
I just wanted to let everyone know that Modest Mouse WILL be playing! We’re
just fixing a few things backstage!” The boo birds started chirping at this
before he told us all to ‘sit tight’ as if there was anything else to do.
Someone threw a beer can on stage which made the guy flinch and he started speed-walking
off stage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Talk
about some good news for people who love bad news!” Morgan said to me with
finger guns. I would’ve groaned if anyone else had made that awful joke to me.
She got a pass. I just hung my head in mock shame.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay
your turn! What do you do, Owen?” Just hearing that she remembered my name made
my heart skip a bit. I think I might be going soft. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Get
ready to be disappointed,” I started off, “but I’m a wannabe writer.” How the hell
was I supposed to follow her up?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
not disappointing! What do you write?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh
you know, the occasional short story, a screenplay I’ll never finish because I
dwell on what to name my characters, a novel that maybe I’ll finish 10 years
from now, but I mostly freelance for music sites. Pays the bills, you know? I
guess I’ll write anything but poetry. Can’t stand poetry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Is
it because you don’t understand it?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No…yeah.”
I came clean. “I hate trying to figure it all out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
the same way! Just get out with it, ya know? I don’t want to try to figure out if
you’re talking about a tree or your girlfriend in the first grade. What sites
did you write for?” She was actually interested in this? What the hell was
happening? I told her some of the sites, some of which she read a bunch and
some she promised to check out, which meant she wouldn’t, but that was fine. I was
just glad to keep this conversation going. Thank god Andy and his drug dances
were elsewhere. This was a weird scene, getting to know someone with thousands
of strangers all on top of us while some panicked tech guys move wires around
on stage. Usually I would be bored meeting people because they didn’t excite me
enough. Now I was worried if I was the one exciting enough to keep her from
yawning. Apparently, I was doing a decent job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
awesome. At least you get to write about an interesting topic,” she said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I just
like to rant and rave about dumb things in music. There’s plenty to rant and
rave about. But I like to help bands I believe in when I can, and try to tear
down Imagine Dragons any chance I get.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What’s the most recent
thing you’ve ranted or raved about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, a couple minutes
ago my friend and I were arguing over Oasis versus Bl…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
Blur all day,” Morgan said, cutting me off. “No debate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Will
you marry me?” I asked. It may have been a bit forward so I quickly tried to recover,
“Why doesn’t everyone understand that Blur is better?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Cause
people are dumb and boring.” Holy shit. I was already pretty high on her, but
with that statement she had officially became the greatest thing to ever walk
this planet. “I feel like we need to ask someone from the UK though. They would
have a better authority on the topic, you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
a great idea. We just need to find a British person…” and I was cut off again,
this time by Morgan shouting at the top of her lungs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“IS
ANYONE HERE FROM ENGLAND?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A voice
somewhere in front of us gave a questioning “oi?” Some people shuffled to let
this monster of a woman through. The Patriots could have used her to help
protect Tom Brady. I’d never want to start any shit at whatever bar she was probably
bouncing at. “Someone lookin’ for a Brit?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes!
Hi, my name is Morgan and this right here is Owen,” She said offering her hand.
Morgan’s hand was dwarfed by the British Girl’s as they shook hands. Morgan even
grimaced a little from the grip. “As someone who survived the Brit Pop War, who
was better: Oasis or Blur?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oasis
versus Blur yeh got goin on?” she gave a chuckle that could only be described
as hearty. If I had to randomly guess her name, I’d put money down on Bertha
and feel very good about my odds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oasis is perfectly fine
if yeh like your standard, every day sex. You kent really go wrong wi Oasis.
But when yeh want to spice things up, that’s when yeh turn to Blur. If Oasis is
sex then Blur is a proper shag in the arse. That fuckin Damon Albarn is
brilliant, let me tell yeh. Like a musical karma sutra mastermind or somethin’,”
she said, complete with a fist pump, hip thrust and lip bite combo mixed in to really
settle the argument once and forever. It was very convincing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As Morgan and I laughed
at this, I noticed others around us shaking their heads in laughter or facepalming
themselves. This was the first time I realized that others in our area may have
been paying attention. There was a mom with a mean looking let-me-speak-to-your-manager
haircut staring daggers at us, mouth agape with her hands over her 10-year old’s
ears who seemed to be pretty upset.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What?” Our British Hero
said, nodding to the woman. “Not my fault you brought ya laddie here. You
should give it a try sometime! Knock that bug right out ya arse!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And with that, the mother
dragged her son away and probably sent him straight to bible camp. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Can’t
wait to see Amanda blush when I bring this up to her next time Wonderwall comes
on Spotify during one of her dinner parties. She may even spit out some of her
Chardonnay. I would’ve liked to see her and British Bertha interact, maybe
loosen her up a little bit. I think she even would’ve sobered Andrew up. I wonder
if he could still feel colors or whatever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thank
you so, so much,” I told our new friend. “I’d buy you a beer if we weren’t
surrounded by a thousand people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
alright love, this will do nicely,” she said as she grabbed one of my Budweiser’s
and downed it in record time. She winked at us and went to rejoin her friends
ahead of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wow.
She’s my hero,” Morgan said as she was rummaging through her green canvas bag.
It looked well-traveled. “The world needs more Bertha’s to hit you with the
truth like that.” I couldn’t agree more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
crowd was starting to get antsy. The wind was starting to pick up as it was
getting darker and (thankfully) cooler. Morgan’s hair was flowing gracefully in
the wind, almost in slow motion. I wish it didn’t make me think of Fabio in a shampoo
commercial, but that’s all I could think of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Alright
so,” I started, “What song do you hope they play. Have to choose one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dramamine.”
She said. I gave her a look that I was impressed, which I absolutely was. That
was a much-appreciated deep cut that she went with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No
matter where I am, any time I hear that song it, like, teleports me back to my
bedroom at home, without fail.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why’s
that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“When
I was little I was a big Indiana Jones fan. Absolutely loved those movies.
Except the one with Shia LaBeouf. That one sucked. Anyways, I just wanted to
travel to all these exotic places and go on adventures, find treasure, the whole
nine yards,” she said, “the only problem was that I would ALWAYS get motion sickness,
so I had to pop Dramamine like TicTacs. At one point I thought I was never
going to go anywhere. I would hear my older brother playing that song from his
bedroom and I finally asked him what it was called, and when he told me what it
was I found it sort of funny. Now I hear it and it brings me back to looking at
a map of the world on my wall, planning where I was going to end up. I’ll put
it on while I’m on a train or waiting for a boat and I’ll immediately get this
pit in my stomach. It still makes me feel something. It makes me feel like I’ve
accomplished something, being so far from home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She paused for a bit after
this. I was hoping they’d play it now just to see how this real-life Carmen San
Diego would react. This was definitely the most reflective she had been in our
brief encounter. It just added to her mystique. It had hit me that any moment the
band would hit the stage and we would stop talking and I’d probably never see
her again. I had to hold back a sigh when she asked me what song I was looking
forward to the most. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Bukowski,”
I told her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I gotta go with a song by a
favorite band about a favorite writer of mine. The lyrics just make me laugh
cause they seem so accurate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And with
that we both started to mumble/grumble/sing the lines in our best Modest Mouse mimic:
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But God who’d want to be? God who’d want
to be such an asshole?</i>” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I like
it. Very solid choice. Now I don’t have to question your fanhood,” she teased.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh like
the Frat guy asking about your t-shirt?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Exactly!”
she said while smacking my arm. “However, we have to thank him and his
douchbaggery on making us friends.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’d
take friends. I noticed some of the techs on stage were having a pow wow that
featured a lot of shrugging. I already felt like I was on borrowed time so I
asked the question that was near the top of my list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So
how the hell are you able to travel that much? It’s impressive as shit but at
the same time I can’t wrap my head around how you’re pulling off this world
tour of yours. Aren’t you ever worried about anything going wrong?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not
at all! Why waste time worrying? It doesn’t help anything. I just want to see
the world as much as I can. All my life I heard from my parents about how they
wish they did this and did that when they were younger, so I’m just doing the
damn thing. Don’t get me wrong, it was weird and scary at first, and it’s never
the easiest thing going to a new place by yourself, but I’ve gotten good at
making friends wherever I go. And in some cases, I even find a partner in crime
to tell a frat boy to fuck off,” she said with a smile. “I just never want to
be bored. Boredom is the enemy! You only get one life so why not try to cram in
as much as you can, right? You could get hit by a Vespa in Rome one day and it could
all end in an instant. I work the odd jobs and make connections, and things
just always seem to work out. You should try it. It’d give you something to
write about. Jack Kerouac’s kind of dated now anyways.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I had been in Morgan’s presence for
like 20 minutes and she was already someone I’d never forget. It’s felt like
everyone I’ve met over the past few years have just been a cookie cutter type
of personality in a different body. Go to college, get a job, get a boyfriend/girlfriend,
get married, get a kid and just keep working til retirement. Not that there’s
anything wrong with that, of course, but most people are predictable. Morgan
was far from that. She was a breath of fresh air. She’s the spice that saves the
recipe. She’s an x-factor, a wild card, a shot of tequila. She’s a human plot
twist in the life of anyone she’s ever interacted with. She’s living a life I
could only dream of. Usually I’d be jealous of her but I can only sit back and
applaud her because she’s actually going out there and doing what she wants to
do, which is see the world. The travel, the lack of worry, the desire to make
her life as interesting as she can…that’s someone doing things the right way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
wish I could join her on whatever adventure was next. She had me feeling
invigorated and also slightly worried that I had already wasted so much time
not going out and seeing the world. I wanted to see her next chapter, wherever
the hell it was. I didn’t know, and I don’t think even she knew what was next. That’s
exciting in its own right. What wasn’t exciting was that I knew exactly what
was going to happen any second: the stage lights would go dark, the band would walk
out to the stage, people would cheer loudly and they would start playing, and we’d
likely get lost in the waves of people when they all rush up toward the stage
to make things even tighter. My time with her was running out and so was my
hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So, seeing
as we’re friends and all now, what’re the chances we ever cross paths again?” I
had to ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well,
that depends,” she said. I swear there was a glimmer there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I usually
don’t want to get too attached with people I meet in cities I’m only briefly in,”
she started. At that very moment the lights turned off. Modest Mouse started walking
out to the stage and those cheers I predicted started to pick up. Morgan had to
start yelling, “but I’ll be at a certain bar tonight after this show ends. If
you show up, maybe, JUST maybe you’ll prove to me that you’re actually adventurous
enough to hang with me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
sounds like a plan. I’m serious when I say this,” I yelled, “You’re the most
interesting person I’ve met in…well, maybe ever. I want to know more about your
story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fuck
that! You’re the writer here! Write your own story.” The sea of people bumping
into us made it a given that we would be separated at any point. “If you find
me, maybe we can share some of the same stories!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fine!
What bar?” I yelled. The human walls were definitely closing in. The band
started playing “Fire It Up” off of the same album that Morgan’s tattoo came
from. That had to be a good sign, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
for you to figure out. I’ve got faith in you,” she said with a wink. At least
one of us had faith in me. She then tapped two guys in front of her on the
shoulder and gave the universal thumbs upward to hoist her up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>God
dammit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Was she really going to exit
my life via crowd-surfing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do you always make such
a glamorous exit?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I just like to keep
things interesting. Good luck writer-boy!” And with that she went tumbling and
turning with her Chuck Taylors in the air bopping people on their heads along
with the various pairs of hands shoving her forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
just stood there, Budweiser in hand staring at her. All I could do was shake my
head. Once again, she left me speechless. For a way too brief moment of time, I
was with someone that truly amazed me. Now I was back to reality with a guy in
his 40’s elbowing me in the ribs trying to take a video on his phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I wondered
if I was the only one that had felt their life had been cut up into two time periods:
Before Morgan and After Morgan. I was now living in the AM.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After
the show, I was back on the dreadful Green line lamenting the impossible mission
I had. It was hopeless. Pick a bar, any bar. It was a nice run with Morgan, but
she will forever be someone I’d be wondering about for years to come. She had
probably ruined Modest Mouse for me, to be honest. I definitely wouldn’t be
able to listen to ‘Dramamine’ without wondering what she was up to. Another
band I loved ruined by someone else that became a member of my past. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As the subway got further
away from the giant crowds, my phone started buzzing with all the messages that
were held up from the shitty service. I had a couple from Amanda telling me to
meet her and Andrew at a bar near the festival, but it was too late for that
since I was already on the subway. Another one came from her that instantly
made a lightbulb go off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey
they played that Bukowski song you like!!” it read.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I had
to buy Amanda a bottle of wine for her being such a genius.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I knew exactly where to
find Morgan. Or at the very least this was the best guess I could ever make.
Leave it to Amanda to finally remember a good song suggestion I threw her way
and help me out. It all made sense now! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Holy
fucking shit!” I said to myself. It was at this point I noticed that the same
mother-son combo that was scarred for life from that British chick was sitting right
across from me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What’s
wrong with you?” the Mother asked while shaking her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“More
like what’s RIGHT with me,” I told her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not
much, apparently.” She said. I felt bad for her kid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I refocused
my attention and realized I had to get off at the very next stop. I sprinted up
the stairs of the Hynes Convention Center stop and had to shove some guy with a
sign that said the world was ending out of my way. My heart was pounding. I had
a pit in my stomach now as I made my way out of the station and ran across the
street with only one cab driver honking at me. I was feeling very anxious as I
made my way under the familiar sign that read Bukowki’s Tavern. This was the
only bar that made sense. She was testing me and this was my one giant swing
for the fences. I had been to this bar a thousand times, a small narrow dive bar
that is literally built into the side of a parking garage overlooking the
highway. My kind of place, however I can assure you I had never felt this excited
to get in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My
eyes got adjusted to the dim lighting as I made my way down the bar. There wasn’t
a lot of people sitting there which didn’t help my hopes. I passed an old
couple bickering over Ronald Reagan, a fat guy who I think was a permanent
fixture at the bar, three bros who could’ve fit in well with that jerkoff Morgan
and I had encountered earlier, and lastly, as I made my way to the end, some
hipster douchebag reading a book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Welp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I sat
down on a barstool that had a fair amount of duct tape on it. There was a
gameshow type of wheel that you could spin to select a beer staring right at me.
I don’t think I had ever seen it used. I tried to recall the last time I felt
this dejected. I thought about how ridiculous it was for someone I just met to
have such an immediate impact on me. It wasn’t like I was actually going to
with her on her journey with zero planning. I was just so curious of what was
next for her. I hadn’t met anyone even remotely close to her. I imagined
hanging out with her would include an endless supply of shenanigans and stories
that could have happened. She was the shot in the arm I needed to get out of
this boring funk I had been in. Shots. That seemed like a good idea now that I
was at a bar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
bartender, bless her, came over. She had been working there a while but I never
knew her name. Maybe she had just as interesting a background as Morgan. Probably
not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Can I
get a Lone Star and a shot of Jameson, please?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure
thing,” she told me, and in a matter of seconds I had my ammunition to help
ease this emotional pain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
so glum, Chum?” the hipster said looking up from his book. Fucking poetry. Even
at Bukowski’s I wasn’t a fan of it. I looked at the hipster and loathed him
almost as much as the Bro from earlier. I hated his beanie that was probably
organic or fairly traded or whatever, and his stupid mustache. I looked at the
book he was somehow able to read in the bar’s darkness. I know you’re not
supposed to judge a book by its cover, but there was no way that The Philosophy
of Margaret Thatcher was an interesting book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
so glum? I figured I’d be sitting next to the greatest woman I’ve ever spent 20
minutes with while waiting for a band to come on, and instead I’m next to you
pretending to look smart by reading at a dive bar late on a Saturday night,” I
told him. Maybe I need more Zen in my life or something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
told him earlier that he looked pretentious reading that shit here,” the
bartender told me. Her tip had just tripled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
took a sip of Lone Star and started to text Amanda to see where she was and
what planet Andrew thought he was on. I got a tap on my left shoulder and was about
to yell at the hipster but he was still pretending to read. I looked back over
to my right and suddenly someone was standing there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
have a winner,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Prayers
had been answered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
took ya so long?” I asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah
sorry about that. I always forget this place is cash only and the ATM out front
is still busted. Did I make you nervous?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
figured you’d already be in Argentina or something by now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
on my list. Maybe next week,” she said. “I had a feeling you’d figure out where
to go. This is my favorite bar here. Thought it was poetic when you mentioned
Bukowski was your favorite song and writer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That
was the first poetic thing I’ve ever enjoyed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do
you do this sort of guessing game everywhere you go?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sometimes.
I just like to keep people guessing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So I
really wouldn’t have seen you again if I didn’t figure it out?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She smiled
as the bartender came over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well,
you may have gotten a hint the next time you did your laundry,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Check
your back right pocket.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I reached
in and felt a piece of paper in there as Morgan ordered two shots and two more beers.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">God dammit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I pulled it out and it
had her email and number on it. It was half infuriating and half hilarious to
me. Morgan had already put me on a roller-coaster, and I wanted it to never end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You know,
just in case you didn’t figure it out and totally let me down,” she said. “Now,
what are we drinking to?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
thought of a million things. Adventures, death to Frat boys, Britpop, Dramamine,
British Bertha corrupting the youth of America, hell I’d even drink to the
Philosophy of Margaret Thatcher at this point, but then the perfect topic hit
me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“To keeping people guessing. And more importantly, to the girl with the modest mouse tattoo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And
with that, we drank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-28226224103221334092018-09-03T22:42:00.002-04:002018-09-04T17:01:25.421-04:00Breakfast<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I woke up on my side with a nightstand covered
in beer bottles facing me. I blinked a few times and realized that it wasn’t my
nightstand, although my head was telling me it was probably my bottles of beer.
I looked over the sea of destruction of another late-night partying in this
bedroom: clothes scattered, a record on a turntable spinning for what had
probably been hours without someone picking up the needle, a traffic cone, the
usual stuff for what was a…Thursday? No, it was a Tuesday night. I turned over
in the bed and now remembered I was at that girl’s apartment. Good for me. I’m
sure I’d piece the night together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I did my best stealthy James Bond impression to get
out of the bed without making a sound. I grabbed my very worn-out Chuck
Taylors, got my black jeans off the floor and found my jacket before sneaking
into the bathroom. I noted to myself that I looked like ass before splashing
water in my face. It hit me that since it was apparently Wednesday morning, I
had to go meet up for breakfast. I hate breakfast. I checked my phone and
realized that I had to be there in 10 minutes, so I had to go now and hope that
I was only 10 minutes away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I went back to stealth mode as I made my way through
the living room towards what I hoped was the front door. Years of waking up on
various couches, floors and, if I were lucky, beds in various apartments that
weren’t my own helped give me the skill to make a silent exit. I was thinking
that very thing when my plan went to shit and I knocked over some stupid plant
that was in the hallway. All that practice yet I couldn’t stifle the “oh shit”
that was muttered out of my mouth. I listened closely without moving, but
didn’t hear anything, so I opened up the door and turned to find another girl
who was about to walk into the very apartment I was leaving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“One
of Erica’s friends?” she asked, with a cup of coffee in her hand. I hated
breakfast but could certainly go for some of that right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m
the new maid. See you next Thursday!” I told her cheerfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
Wednesday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Terrific.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think you stepped on my cat last night,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Guess
I’m fired then!” I told her as I finally got away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was thanking God that this building had an elevator.
I checked my missed texts and realized that my 12% battery wasn’t ideal. That
probably meant no Spotify on the post-breakfast subway. If Satan really wanted
to punish us, Hell would be a never ending subway ride without music. I ignored
the various texts asking what I was up to, when my next story could be
expected, and the one calling me an asshole, but I did text back a “see you
soon” to the girl I was meeting for breakfast, despite her reaching out to
confirm about 14 hours earlier. She knows me well enough to know that I would
never cancel on her. We all should have at least one person in our lives that we
should never, ever cancel on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The sun was so bright it basically punched me in the
face as I made my way out of the lobby. It was a small miracle that I was somewhat close to our meeting spot at The Mug n’ Muffin. The hangover was starting to
settle in, but that didn’t take away from my excitement from seeing Amanda. I
hustled the final two blocks so that I would only be 3 minutes late to
breakfast. I saw her sitting down at one of the tables outside. It was
impossible to miss her. She’d make a terrible Where’s Waldo. I hopped over the
short gate next to her table and sat down across from her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Only
three minutes late! That’s a new record for you,” She said with mock
enthusiasm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank
you, thank you,” I said while waving to my fake cheering section. “How the hell
are ya?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fantastic
as always. You look like ass,” she said. She was right. Then again, she was
always right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
feel like ass,” I said. I guess I was still looking as banged up as I felt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
see you haven’t changed from last night’s clothes. Just wake up?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Well
now how did you know that? Maybe I just own multiple Talking Heads tshirts.
Ever think about that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Your
Instagram story gave it away.” Dammit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay
fine, yes, it was another dive bar turned into after party turned into a rough
morning. But I’m here now with you so things are going swimmingly. And you are
lucky enough to not be hungover, looking sharp as always in that snappy
pantsuit AND you even get to hang with me, so I will admit that you are the one
thriving the most at this table,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The waiter came over with a pot of coffee, and a coupe
of plates. He set the first one down in front of Amanda which had scrambled
eggs, a piece of rye toast and 3 strips of turkey bacon. I didn’t even have to
look at it to tell you what she had ordered. He then put down a plate in front
of me that had 5 strips of bacon (the real stuff) and two Advil, with a Bloody
Mary with extra green olives to wash it down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
figured I’d order your usual. Wasn’t expecting you just being three minutes
late. So where are you coming from?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My
apartment,” I said as I choked down the Advil.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
not nice to lie, Owen,” she said as she blew on her coffee. “If you were coming
from your apartment wouldn’t you have approached from the other side of the
street?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Busted.
Some girl’s apartment…” I tried to think of what her roommate said. “Erica.
Erica’s apartment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Poor
Erica,” she said. “Now the real question is how are you doing? Have you been
writing?” And with this started the usual Owen Morrison welfare check. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
betcha. Working on a lot right now.” I have no idea why I bothered lying. I
think it was more to feel good about myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
haven’t blogged in 3 months. What about that screenplay you’ve been working on
for the last 2 years yet no one has seen a single line of?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was starting to not feel so well. I don’t think it
was the hangover talking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Eh,
I mean it’s going. Just doing a lot of research still.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh
Owen come on. You’ve been claiming to be writing so much but you haven’t done
shit in years! You’re better than this,” It was nice to hear someone actually
think that about me for a change. “Seriously, what is holding you back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
dunno. Just stuck I guess. I just feel like being a writer isn’t quite as
simple as I thought it would be. Am I still your favorite writer at least?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
pretty funny,” Amanda said, as she checked the fancy shmancy watch she had
recently bought herself. “Last I checked, you had to actually write something
to be called a writer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yikes,”
I said. That one stung, but she was absolutely right. It had been sort of a
while. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think you’ve been living like a writer. I think you’ve been drinking like a
writer and running around this city like a poor man’s Bukowski, but no, I don’t
think you’re actually living up to your job title right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Well, fine I’m a writer that doesn’t write. But you
can’t take away that one time I got something published. You were even there
for the party. The records will forever show you were at You’re Not Punk Zine’s
launch party for their first issue.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right. What was that…2 years ago? I remember a lot of leather jackets, PBR’s
and that band that broke up on stage while playing their second song. By the
way, when should we be expecting the second issue of You’re Not Punk?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey,
that was a great time. And it’s not my fault Greg got hit by a bus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Did
he really?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No,
but he had to move to like, West Virginia or something. I think he would’ve
preferred getting hit by a bus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The bacon wasn’t too bad and Amanda, bless her,
ordered my Bloody Mary extra spicy. We ate in silence for a little bit. She
really was the most beautiful girl in the world. It made breakfast somewhat
enjoyable. Despite the chewing out, the hangover and the fact that it was still
early in the morning, this was bliss for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“So,
what’s the plan for you today? Gonna do any writing?” She asked me. She had a
tone in her voice that was either curiosity or concern. I couldn’t tell, which
scared the shit out of me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah,
I mean, going to try to. Probably take a nap, you know? Then I dunno, walk
around, find a coffee shop, fill out a couple pages in the ol’ legal pad…” I
could tell she didn’t believe me at all. And that was even before she said
anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Owen,
you’re wasting this. I’ve known you since the 3<sup>rd</sup> grade. Even back
then you had this unreal talent to tell stories and make up all these great
characters. You have this ability to see things in everyday life and you can
write about it when no one else can. You have an imagination unlike anyone I
know. You are so infuriating it makes me want to smack you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Every
day I wonder how you’re doing. Aren’t you sick of hardly working and just
spending all your nights drinking and doing your ‘research by experiencing
life’? That’s all fine but you at least have to do the whole writing part. The
last thing I want is for you to wake up one morning, hungover again after a
night of partying, and you not being able to write down a clever line. You
always have a response or a witty answer to everything but it would help a lot
more if you wrote them down instead of just telling people you’re working on a
bunch of projects that won’t see the light of day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I hadn’t seen Amanda this peeved since Carl dumped her
the week of prom. This was like the verbal equivalent of being taken to the
tool shed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well,
I mean I have some things up my sleeve…” I don’t even know why I bothered
saying that. I was digging my own hole of disappointment deeper and deeper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
always have something up your sleeve. You always did! You need to grow the fuck
up though and actually do the work. I know we have different outlooks on life
but you’ve always supported me and I’ve always supported you, but it’s getting
a lot harder to do that when there isn’t too much to support.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I didn’t notice my hangover anymore. This was much
worse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
mean, I never felt cut out for a typical job…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh
trust me, I know. You’d be a disaster, and it would be a waste of your talent
too. You should absolutely be doing what you’re doing, but just don’t fucking
waste it. You don’t belong in an office. Me, I’m fine with the finance world,
but I don’t have the same talent as you. I wish I were able to do what you do.
I know you’ve had some success with it in the past, but that’s been a long time
now. You need to just stop being a lazy piece of shit and write.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The waiter came back with another Bloody Mary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh I
didn’t order a sec…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
asked for him to have a second one ready before you got here,” she said. She
really did know me better than anyone else on this planet. I hadn’t been so
ashamed in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I looked at the Bloody Mary. No sense in wasting it,
so I took a sip. I had not felt so ashamed in my life. Letting people down
isn’t the best feeling in the world, but letting down the most important person
in your world, whether she realizes it or not, is just absolutely dreadful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are
you okay?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah.
I think I needed this.” I said meekly. I never say things meekly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well good, cause I'm not done. Your self-pity isn’t going to save you here. Are you
gonna be a little emo baby about this or are you actually going to listen?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ll
listen,” I said. As if I actually had another option.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good
boy. I just wanted to tell you that for being someone so outspoken about
posers, you’ve been the biggest poser I’ve known the past 2 years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I fucking hate getting breakfast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ooooh
look at me, I’m Owen and I’m the writer who doesn’t write. Let’s party and live
life and go to punk shows and meet all these coooool characters and party some
more and then wake up and not write about the crazy experiences I’ve had
oooooohhhh,” She was having way too much fun doing this now. “I’m gonna meet
girls then never settle down with any because life is too short and that would
take away my experiences that I don’t write about anyways! Mer Mer Mer. Did you
hear about this cool band no one else has ever heard of? I’m cooler than you
because I blog about them twice a year mer mer mer. Let’s go to a dive bar
Ooooohhhhhhh.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
think I got it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
better have, Dummy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Had any other person in the world be giving me this
speech, I probably would have left the table ten minutes ago by muttering a
fuck you and knocked over the glass of water on the table just to be a dick.
But with her, I couldn’t do that. She knew I would listen to her. As much as I
hated, no, loathed everything coming out of her mouth, I couldn’t say shit
because I knew she was absolutely 100% right. I just sat there looking at her
with my mouth shut (which was rare), with my arms folded and a million thoughts
going on in my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She took her designer wallet out of her designer purse
to pay for the check. I grabbed my beat up wallet but she brushed that away
instantly. She was right, we were extremely different. She was driven, hard
working, dedicated at what she did and has always had a plan of attack for each
stage of her life. We were so different yet we had always been the best of
friends. We’ve had these breakfasts before where the usual welfare check would
happen, but this was the first time she gave me a reality check. Holy hell did
I need that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She stood up, dusted some toast crumbs off the pants
portion of her fancy pantsuit and came over to my side of the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
love you, but quit being such a little bitch and write me something,” she said
as she gave me her usual kiss on the cheek.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay”,
I said. The ‘writer’ was at a loss for words once again. She started to walk
away but stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Owen,
you’re gonna be okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And for the first time in a long time, I knew that I
would be okay. She put her sunglasses on and started to turn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Amanda!”
I shouted, running to catch up just before she had turned the corner on the
sidewalk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“For
the wakeup call?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah.
And breakfast too, I guess.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah
right,” she said. “You hate breakfast.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She was never wrong. She gave me a smile and fixed the
collar on my jacket before turning down the street. She’d go to her big
corporate office, have a normal day where she kicked ass doing whatever finance
stuff she did, and go home to her boyfriend and dog, and that would be that.
Maybe she realized it then, or maybe not, but in my opinion, she had already
done the most important thing she’d do that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because I went home and wrote this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-49911073859098418532018-07-22T18:17:00.001-04:002018-07-23T09:59:21.226-04:00Who is Riot Fest's Secret Performer?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a big fan of Riot Fest. I’ve been impressed by their
lineups enough to fly out to Chicago with friends twice in the past (one instance even resulted in a Toy Story related tattoo for someone, but that's for another time), and I wish
I could have gone in the years I couldn’t make it. Riot Fest stands out because
they keep their festival lineup to the punk/rock/alternative genre with some hip hop mixed in, so there
are more similar bands out there for the rock diehards still sticking around in
2018 (bless you all!). Back in simpler times, you would have to choose which
lineup between Lollapalooza, Coachella, Bonnaroo, Firefly, etc you liked best.
These days, it seems that all festivals have the same exact lineup, with just a
few minor changes in the bands that hit are playing around lunchtime. Riot Fest
does not fall into that awful trend, but instead thrives on having a
jaw-droppingly good lineup each and every year. One added caveat (SAT word
right there!) is that they have amazed people by getting bands to reunite when it
seemed impossible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posting this just to make myself laugh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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My first year at Riot
Fest, 2013, I saw the Replacements play their first show since 1991. Since
then, they got the Misfits to reunite with their original lineup for the first
time in 33 years, and then, they pulled off the impossible last year by
reuniting your favorite bands’ favorite band: Jawbreaker. To sum it up quick
without fangirling too hard, Jawbreaker basically made it as close as possible
without hitting it big, and eventually broke up amidst turmoil and the members
hating each other, only for a cult like following to grow since their demise
back in ‘96. I swear when the lineup was released last year, I thought it was a
joke poster when Jawbreaker’s name was up there with Nine Inch Nails and Queens
of the Stone Age for headliners. I hadn’t bought a plane ticket so fast in my
life, and it was worth every penny and lower back pain from standing in a giant
park for three days.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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In addition to reunions, they get legends like Iggy Pop,
Pixies, Taking Back Sunday, The Cure, System of a Down, Motorhead, No Doubt, New
Order and even Snoop Dogg to perform. Basically, they’ve never had a bad lineup,
despite Riot Fest constantly saying themselves that ‘Riot Fest Sucks’. So here
we are in 2018, with an almost full lineup announced, with some actual question
marks listed for surprise acts. The lineup already includes Blink-182, Elvis
Costello, Interpol, Blondie, Sum 41, Twin Peaks, The Jesus Lizard, and of
course, Andrew W.K. So who the hell is going to be the surprise this year? I
have a feeling, albeit a pure gut feeling, but a feeling none the less that it
can only be one band worthy of a shockingly good surprise headliner: but I’m
going paint you a picture with words so you can envision it, or something like
that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0bn3NSIxDhM/W1T_0CwyWzI/AAAAAAAABsk/1QAaHfRGCU0iYFeCGVBZZHBBxVDxF-aVgCLcBGAs/s1600/riotfest%2Blineup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0bn3NSIxDhM/W1T_0CwyWzI/AAAAAAAABsk/1QAaHfRGCU0iYFeCGVBZZHBBxVDxF-aVgCLcBGAs/s320/riotfest%2Blineup.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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If I’m Riot Fest, I’m keeping those ????’s up on the lineup
and just wait for everyone to show up at the end of Sunday night to see who is
going to close. Everyone will be waiting in suspense without having any idea
who the hell it’s going to be. Maybe they can leave early, maybe they’ll want
to stay for a third encore, who knows? They sure don’t. The crowds show up,
with nothing but a black curtain with a white ‘?’ on it. The tension in the air
is thick enough to hack with a machete. Punks, skinheads, dweebs, wastoids,
riot grrrls, dad’s accompanying their 14-year-old obsessed with All Time Low,
everyone is on edge waiting to see who this mystery headliner is. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Picture yourself there, there is a goth girl wearing a Cure
shirt to your right with a stick n poke spider tattoo. On your left? A guy with
a long beard, an Operation Ivy tee and a look that he only drinks craft beers
and nothing else. People are ready to boo, complain or faint from happiness. Even
the mysteriously banned CM Punk, who has snuck in under the name of Phil
something or other, is ready to see who it is. </div>
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The clock strikes 9:30 and a single
spotlight hits the question mark on the curtain. It’s mostly silence, with a
couple drunken woo’s that inevitably would happen anywhere. ALL OF A SUDDEN,
THE CURTAIN DROPS. A bald guy with a guitar stands alone on the stage in front
of a curtain with a banner hanging on it. It’s fucking Daughtry. Daughtry is
the surprise headliner. You are at a Daughtry show. A chorus of jeers erupts in
the crowd. You’re dumbstruck. You hear people cry out “BOOO!” “HISS!” and of
course, “NOT A FAN OF YOU!”. The poser with the Joy Division shirt he bought at
Urban Outfitters a couple feet in front of you is going wild, so pumped for
Daughtry. Finally, an act that he not only knows, but likes! Somewhere out
there, maybe by a merch stand, maybe watching backstage, maybe a thousand miles
outside of Chicago, the Riot Fest Twitter Guy laughs to him/herself. It’s the
greatest troll job he/she has ever done. It has almost made up for every single
time someone on Twitter asks when the lineup is coming out, despite it coming
out at the same time each year. He/she can take a minute to enjoy this, because
they have earned it for the dumbness of people on social media. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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As Riot Fest is about to turn into an actual riot because of
Daughtry, the banner comes down, revealing the word “SIKE!” on the curtain. It
goes pitch black once again, and everyone is holding their breath. People who
were walking for the exits stop in their tracks, the mob getting ready to tip
over the porta potties freeze, and the bored girl with a shitload of eye liner
and the septum piercing that kept sighing in front of you look up, with hope.
All of a sudden, a single piano note plays. Hey, you know that note from
somewhere, don’t you? Where do you know that song? The crowd starts erupting as
the second and third piano notes hit, and everything starts picking up steam.
The crowd starts singing along in the what is the most unified thing this
country has seen since 2016 when they all scream out ‘WHEN I WAS. A YOUNG BOY.
MY FATHER. TOOK ME INTO THE CITY.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lr1-RKGp1qg/W1UBTEnYh6I/AAAAAAAABs0/dihjySuQW2EXSbbjhIHK06ifKSFcN7cJACLcBGAs/s1600/MCR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lr1-RKGp1qg/W1UBTEnYh6I/AAAAAAAABs0/dihjySuQW2EXSbbjhIHK06ifKSFcN7cJACLcBGAs/s320/MCR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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You’re damn skippy, you’re being welcomed (back) to the
black parade. My Chemical Romance is back and you’re ready to get your goddamn
emo on. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JcaFl7p6HN4/W1UB4VjKZLI/AAAAAAAABtA/gb-39gGSc88EOg7jE2WyWe1Fx_BS6FQPgCLcBGAs/s1600/old%2Bmcr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="213" data-original-width="474" height="143" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JcaFl7p6HN4/W1UB4VjKZLI/AAAAAAAABtA/gb-39gGSc88EOg7jE2WyWe1Fx_BS6FQPgCLcBGAs/s320/old%2Bmcr.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">honestly, simpler times.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I mean, this is just pure guesswork here, but let me give me
thoughts why: the band is on friendly terms despite the hiatus, which is
extremely rare. They’ve been spotted hanging out in the past at Frank Iero
shows, so it doesn’t appear to be a huge feud or anything. They’ve had time to
do their own solo stuff and take breaks and whatever. I mean they’ve been out
of action since 2013, so they are due for a comeback. MCR fits the bill for
Riot Fest, obviously. Who wouldn’t be happy with that reunion? The Riot Fest
audience is filled with the beaten and the damned, who want to say so long and
goodnight and promising that they’re not okay. This is a slam dunk of a
headliner, will add to the lore of Riot Fest booking amazing surprises, and add
the perfect band to go with Blink 182, Beck, Interpol, Sum 41, Twin Peaks, The
Wonder Years and such. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I may be way completely wrong here, but hey, I’m trying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-52032157297210156912018-05-29T22:27:00.000-04:002018-05-29T22:28:28.085-04:00I Was VIP At A Music Festival And You Were Not<br />
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This past weekend I was briefly in the lap of luxury while
attending the Boston Calling music festival, and it was sweet. This was all
made possible by friend and Medford’s finest, Trace who got his paws on a pair
of VIP tickets for Saturday, and I took full advantage of this golden
opportunity to do learn about the lifestyles of the rich and the famous, as
Good Charlotte always claimed to know about. How did Trace get the VIP tickets?
I wouldn’t worry too much about that. It’s a long story involving Drew Carey,
a dead moose and a Swiss army knife and you wouldn’t want to hear it so we’ll
just skip ahead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve been to my fair share of music festivals: Gov Ball
(once), Riotfest (twice (Hi Andrew!)) and Boston Calling (thrice) but this was my first time
ever gaining access beyond the barriers, where the beers were a little colder, the
bathrooms a little cleaner, and the crowds a little less…crowded. Last year I
swore off ever going to Boston Calling after the mud filled disaster with me
ruining a pair of perfectly nice Vans, and the fact that Mumford and Sons were
a headliner. Seriously, I hadn’t had a pair of shoes ruined like that since my
friend Wade’s bachelor party and SOMEONE WHO WILL REMAIN NAMELESS puked in my Sperry’s
as I was in the shower. It was a hell of a bachelor party, and I know what you’re
thinking: Jim in Sperry’s? I know, right? They were comfy though and I can’t
knock Sperry’s for doing their thing. Anyways, the mud and lackluster lineup,
along with the absolutely bonkers amount of lines and piss-poor cell signal led
to more stress than I had hoped for on a relaxing weekend. Also I finally
realized I was old and my body can’t handle drinking copious amounts of Miller
Lite and my lower back not being able to handle standing on uneven ground for
such a long period of time. I believe I even told my friends who I were with
that they only way I would go back is if ABBA reunited, I got free tickets, or
if they were VIP. Amazingly, all three things happened, it’s just a shame I
didn’t specify ABBA reuniting for the actual Boston Calling event, but what’re
you gonna do?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nRHjSou8AM/Ww4KexbY2iI/AAAAAAAABq8/QntWZskZGQ0MHVCCuhNPLFfWdHleUStjwCLcBGAs/s1600/qotsa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nRHjSou8AM/Ww4KexbY2iI/AAAAAAAABq8/QntWZskZGQ0MHVCCuhNPLFfWdHleUStjwCLcBGAs/s320/qotsa.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Queens of the Stone Age didn't kick anyone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I got the text Friday about possibly wanting to tag along,
and I said oh hell yeah why not? Free and VIP are both things that sound nice,
and I kept my unfortunate Boston Calling memories repressed for the time being.
Things got off to a questionable start immediately as we were able to go
through the VIP express entrance way. While this was great, there was also no
one else in the general admission lines to get in, so this was kind of a moot
point. It really saved us zero time being VIP, and I was starting to have my doubts
about how great VIP was. This soon changed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The actual VIP area was basically off to the side of the
stage, so the wealthy and lovely could get up super close to see bands that
they love or act like they know. Within the VIP area were bathrooms that were
furnished bathroom trailers (brailers? Bathlers? Need to work on this) instead
of the usual porta-potties. This was a fantastic perk of the VIP. Probably my
favorite, as I did not have to wait in line for the men’s room whatsoever, and we had full sinks and decorative wallpaper. The part
that I was most disappointed in was the VIP bars, because for some reason there
was still like 30 volunteers (bless them) working the bar, and it became
excruciatingly awkward as Trace and I made our walk over to them to order our $8
miller lite tall boys. There were so many of them working and so few customers
to have that they were all staring at us hoping that we would choose them to
buy our beers and tip a buck to. I felt guilty each time I went up there. I can
honestly say I’ve never felt more awkward buying beers at any point in my life.
I felt terrible for the other 19 bartenders I wasn’t buying from that it just
became depressing for me. Thank god The Cure wasn’t playing or anything. In
addition, there was a VIP Customer Support desk. </div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pKmtwD7L9hY/Ww4JytUVWCI/AAAAAAAABqk/aFFXj0MAQPI0dLuixXvKFmfJCHiz78VwQCLcBGAs/s1600/customer%2Bsupport.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pKmtwD7L9hY/Ww4JytUVWCI/AAAAAAAABqk/aFFXj0MAQPI0dLuixXvKFmfJCHiz78VwQCLcBGAs/s320/customer%2Bsupport.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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As you can see from the
picture, it was very reminiscent of Lucy’s “Psychiatric Help 5 cents” booth
from Peanuts. Basically you could get some suntan lotion, wet-naps, and
hopefully moral support at this booth. </div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tu0FEUgVV3Y/Ww4J6LDzu2I/AAAAAAAABqo/V3aLei69whcaYOdm3xeOCKw5f0gSMGJhACLcBGAs/s1600/lucy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="998" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tu0FEUgVV3Y/Ww4J6LDzu2I/AAAAAAAABqo/V3aLei69whcaYOdm3xeOCKw5f0gSMGJhACLcBGAs/s320/lucy.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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While I did not see a single fellow VIP-er
take advantage of this perk, I am still kicking myself that I didn’t send Trace
over there after a lot of beers to ask for one single wet-nap, or a fortune to
be told. Oh, to have a time machine, you guys.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After checking out a band with two (2!) drummers, Thee Oh
Sees, we decided to do some exploring with the other general admission peasants
and see what other perks were out there so Trace and I could laugh at the
people that couldn’t get in where we could. I was finally getting revenge for….I
don’t know I’m sure there was some party or something I was mad about not
getting invited to at some point. Anyways, we stumbled into some bizarre lounge
area sponsored by IKEA, which was just as Swedish and weird as you would
imagine something hosted by IKEA would be. Our brief time there was spent with
our jaws on the ground in confusion as we watched people peddling $4 veggie dogs,
and watching people hang on a bunch of hammocks that looked like they were
suspended in the middle of a Jenga game that was half-way done. I haven’t seen
A Clockwork Orange but this IKEA lounge seemed like it could be someone’s
living room in that movie, with the awful DJ included.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I87vL4qi73c/Ww4KHiif6MI/AAAAAAAABqw/hfWDrHHr5b4AtrA-cTtiqUzTGxOReNxmQCLcBGAs/s1600/ikea%2Blounge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I87vL4qi73c/Ww4KHiif6MI/AAAAAAAABqw/hfWDrHHr5b4AtrA-cTtiqUzTGxOReNxmQCLcBGAs/s320/ikea%2Blounge.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this was the most normal area, assembly required.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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After surviving that, we stumbled on in, sorry, gracefully
were allowed in after flashing our VIP bracelets to some other lounge that had
an arcade, chairs, and complimentary coffee. That’s right, complimentary
coffee. For a second there I couldn’t tell if this was just the name of a
tricky coffee roaster, but it turns out it actually was free coffee, so that
was great.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8NW-o2Htv8/Ww4MQN20pXI/AAAAAAAABrc/-PAldUpStK8H5ab9vKZkM7711X1o0PLVQCLcBGAs/s1600/free%2Bcoffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8NW-o2Htv8/Ww4MQN20pXI/AAAAAAAABrc/-PAldUpStK8H5ab9vKZkM7711X1o0PLVQCLcBGAs/s320/free%2Bcoffee.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">kind of confusing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What was not great was losing a best of 3 series of Fooseball in
heartbreaking fashion, and that fucking whack-a-mole wasn’t working. Boston Calling
lost points as a whole for whack-a-mole not working. Maybe it just wasn’t
plugged in, but I was VIP, I wasn’t going to stoop down and check for that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z5HzHRMw_AU/Ww4KRx-mzpI/AAAAAAAABq4/FjCrh780HMQAYhHNExCGzSi0SQkzMfIXwCLcBGAs/s1600/whacka%2Bmole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z5HzHRMw_AU/Ww4KRx-mzpI/AAAAAAAABq4/FjCrh780HMQAYhHNExCGzSi0SQkzMfIXwCLcBGAs/s320/whacka%2Bmole.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bullshit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The bands were perfectly fine. In the early portion, we saw
Royal Blood who was very good. Highlights included one of the better drum solos
I’ve ever seen, and more importantly, the very same drummer put a huge dent via
chugging into the bottle of Patron he had, which just the sight of made want to
run to one of the trailer bathrooms. This was one of the few times that it
sucked being VIP, as a group of teenybopper frat and sorority gals who were
pretending it was East Coast Coachella (the worst!) started annoying us. I kept
wishing on them to be tossed into a mosh pit at some point, but the lineup wasn’t
in my favor in that regard. We saw Manchester Orchestra sing their angsty
hearts out, Mount Kimbie play their weird keyboard solos and spacey folk rock (full
disclaimer, I had no idea who they were either. We just wanted to check out the
Blue stage), and St. Vincent give a performance that was exactly what I imagined
at St. Vincent performance to be like, maybe with more robots than expected. Oh
also we saw like 10 minutes of Brockhampton, who I had never heard of, and was extremely
confused when this boyband of like 10 people ran out on stage in bullet proof
vests. If I weren’t in VIP I would’ve been worried that we were getting raided
or something. That was weird and now Brockhampton is in some trouble so they
can go screw. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This was all a prelude to the double whammy of Queens of the
Stone Age dripping their coolness over those nerdy fields of Harvard, and Jack
White showing that he’s still very, very good at guitar to close things out. Both
were great, however I was a bit dismayed when a fellow VIP brat was screaming
the lyrics to The White Stripes’ ‘The Hardest Button to Button’, which is my
personal favorite song. I don’t want to knock the poor gal for being pumped up
like she got a prom date at the last second, but I could’ve done without singing
the wrong verses at the wrong time. Get it together. This is VIP. In between
QOTSA and Jack White, I came across a gentleman who had on the single greatest
shirt of the festival. I was feeling spiffy in my own right, as I dusted off my
cheetah print button up and Sonic Youth shirt, but I soon learned that I was
playing second fiddle to this dude in the Celine Dion shirt that would make
Iron Maiden jealous. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">maybe my favorite photo of all time</td></tr>
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That’s right, a death metal-like tribute to Celine Dion,
Canada’s greatest export, and her iceberg smash of a hit ‘My Heart Will Go On’.
As a proud band tshirt aficionado, this man is my hero for wearing it, and I
have made it my life goal to make it to his age and keep youngsters on notice
with my tshirt game at music festivals. I don’t know your name, so let’s go
with Bart, but way to go Bart. Way to go. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As the evening came to an end, I found myself ordering festival
ramen which sucked, listening to Seven Nation Army, and pondering how there are so many Bill
Murray Toon Squad jerseys from Space Jam and how it’s a
shame I have yet to see a Monstars jersey at a festival, when it hit
me just how truly blessed I was. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">here's Trace patiently waiting for me as I patiently wait for my crappy ramen</td></tr>
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I had broken the barrier and invaded VIP at a
music festival, surrounded by mostly older people there to see Jack White and
had established bank accounts to spend the extra, like 60 bucks it took to do
so. This is the kind of life I want to strive for. While it was nice to hobnob with
the first class of the Boston Music Festival Scene, I really left it as a
changed man spiritually. Now that I know how VIP’s live, I want to become a VIP
everywhere I go, therefore I solemnly swear to become a VIP, or to somehow rely
on Trace to get his hands on more VIP passes to things. Maybe this blog will be
a stepping stone into the VIP life, but I’m guessing it will just be easier
having friends in high places.</div>
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VIP, man. I can get used to it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Except for fucking whack-a-mole being broken. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-71348511097546643512018-04-16T00:32:00.002-04:002018-04-16T00:32:26.438-04:00A PSA for B@J'sTo quote the great Usher, this is my confession. Well, it's not really a confession, more like an explanation? Eh. A general understanding? Alright, alright now I'm getting further from whatever it is I'm trying to do here. For some time now I've been at a loss of what to blog about. It's not so much a time thing, or a question of if I still have my writing fastball, but its really more of what the hell can I blog about these days?<br />
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I started this blog back in 2009 because I couldn't fall asleep at night. Pecking away at a keyboard was like one of those rainmakers that help make you fall asleep at night. For clarification, I'm not talking about the Pacman Jones at a strip club type of rainmaker.<br />
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Maybe it was being in college then versus being 27 now, but life was just simpler back then. In a way there was more quality material to work with, and fewer people watering things down. Jersey Shore was a fucking goldmine of blog material back when it came out. I can still remember people staying in to watch Jersey Shore on MTV (those bastards) before going to bars on Thursday nights (dollar drink night!) my sophomore year. We survived without opening Instagram and a hundred different meme accounts making the same joke with the same picture of Snooki making the boardwalk of shame, with each meme account taking credit for it. Get what I'm saying? There's a bit of overexposure that kind of takes away the creative juices to blog.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gift to us all.</td></tr>
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<br />I've never really treated this thing too seriously. In fact, I'd even say most of it was plain stoopid, but it always made me pleased as punch when someone would tell me they enjoyed a post, got pissed over a post, or most importantly, laughed at a post. My senior year some junior who I had never met bought me a Bud light at a now defunct college hole-in-the-wall bar because he had stumbled across this thing and said it was funny. At that point, it was my greatest accomplishment from this thing. I had approximately 0 goals for this thing, and I had received a $3 Bud light out of it, so it was a real win for me. Fast forward a few years and it's kind of in a no man's land in the blogosphere. The motivation just hasn't really been there.<br />
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I did some spring cleaning today and stumbled across my <a href="http://dojozine.com/5-bands-that-prove-rock-is-still-alive/" target="_blank">big print debut for DOJO zine</a>. I was on cloud nine when this dude Dylan generously agreed to my email request about wanting to write a music piece for him, and when I saw it up on a website and later in a magazine that you could physically hold (even with Kirwan misspelled) it really sank in that this might be something to chase after. After that, I toiled away writing for free for some British music site that seemed to be a rudderless ship. After a number of broken promises, despite me always living up to my end various bargains, I finally said it wasn't worth it and stopped writing for them. I know this is going to really make me sound like a total badass (I'm joking, because in today's day and age, someone will take that line seriously), but it fucking sucked being edited and getting my work turned into plain, ordinary, bland stuff. Who the hell likes bland? I fought the good fight for myself and told them that what I had written was good (it was, I swear) and that I have faith in my style, while they wanted it to be more 'professional', which really sucked the fun out of the whole thing. You compare one song favorably with an ADHD joke and suddenly you're being scolded. Jesus. It wasn't like I was getting paid for it. Personally, I believe in my writing style. I think it's kinda unique. I don't want to be the AP or using some cookie cutter format for how I write an album review. How incredibly boring. I liked my writing to be like how I enjoy my margaritas: with a hint of spice. That sounded much better in my head.<br />
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Many of my heroes have been able to take the boring and turn it into exciting. My Grandpa Kenny had the unique capability to somehow turn any situation into a fun time. I swear he never had a bad day or a boring moment in his 91 years, he was just one of those guys. It mystifies me to this very day how he could make things like long, hot car trips to southern Rhode Island (insert joke here) exciting and funny. I'm saying this not only by going back in my childhood, but even still in my 20's. Things were always interesting when he was around. One of my favorite writers is Charles Bukowski. I love his writing because he's able to paint a picture without any flowery language. He just called it like he saw it, didn't bullshit anything, and it worked out for him beautifully. He could take a bar scene in a story and get 15 pages without using a single SAT word, and it would be interesting. Was he a dirty old man that drank waaaay too much? Absolutely! Was he an interesting character? You butter believe it. I hope to be able to take the boring and try to get a rise out of things.<br />
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These days, between everyone being pissed off at everything and everyone else in general, it feels like you have to walk on eggshells wherever you go. No one can say anything, no one can assume anything, no one is ever on the same page. I blame social media for this, but that's just the world we live in. Twitter was fantastic when it first took off. Tweet about a show, crack a joke about Madonna, tell a hockey player he sucks and he might just reply back saying that you suck. Now I open up Twitter and I'll see some recycled joke followed by a retweet of a report about something shitty that Trump did, then fake rumor about Tom Brady and these will be sandwiched between a tweet calling the Kardashians #goals and a tweet from someone thinking that Lil Uzi Vert is actually good. It sucks the life out of us mere mortals. Are we allowed to be funny anymore? It hit me about an hour ago that this is sort of a challenge. Why the hell not try to find things to make fun of still, like the glory days (?) of this blog. Coachella sucks these days, why not make fun of that? I think I can have some fun making fun of those flower crown wearing assholes who go to a desert to watch the Weeknd lipsynch in hopes of getting their likes on Instagram in the triple digits. Shit, I should write the rest of this rant in a new tab. Twitter may be a lost cause but I can still have fun on here, right?! RIGHT!?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">seriously, what happened to Coachella?</td></tr>
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<br />Over the years on this blog I've covered head-scratching one hit wonders from Asher Roth's 'I Love College' to Rebecca Black's 'Friday' (still my personal favorite blog). I have done Pop Culture March Madness brackets, I gave out a Man of the Year award once (Bruce Jenner in 2010, by the way. Little did we know!), had a 3 blog installment on why Catholic School Girls Rock, wrote about my love for Carly Rae Jepsen when 'Call Me Maybe' swept the nation, tried finding my buddy Tyler a Valentine, somehow got 172,421 views on a parody interview about wigs, and shared with you all my pure, utter hatred for the Christmas Shoes song which resulted in an argument with my grandmother during Christmas one year. I've had some fun with this thing.<br />
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I admit, these days I've been focusing on a bunch of short stories and a screenplay (ambitious!), so the blogging has taken a backseat, but I oddly have a new ambition to make fun of things in pop culture again. Maybe it is due to the jinx removal Voodoo doll I just bought in New Orleans, or maybe it was the aforementioned spring cleaning that inspired me, but I'm going to really try to get this thing rolling again. There have been hits and misses over the years, and there certainly will be more of both to come, but why not give it another whirl? Maybe I'll even get another Bud light out of it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He really pulls the room together.</td></tr>
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<br />All I know is, I'm gonna write what I want, how I want and just hope it works. With Voodoo on my side, how can I fail?Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-61425218142238872802018-02-13T18:17:00.002-05:002018-02-13T18:17:33.002-05:00A Non-Emo Valentine's Day BlogFebruary 13th. The eve of one of the more dreaded days of the calendar year. For people who are spoken for, they are preparing to woo their loved one with a fancy, overpriced dinner, with overpriced flowers that will die, and boxes of chocolate that will be half eaten because really only the caramel-filled and milk chocolate pieces matter. Valentine's Day is the time for those lucky enough to have someone to show just how much they care, and for greeting card companies to make enough money to give out bonuses for ski homes. While some are looking forward to this...holiday, some (most?) are dreading it. This being said, I'm here to tell you that things will be okay!<br />
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I haven't had a Valentine's Day worth celebrating in years, and while I used to get bummed out, I have developed ways to get distracted by it, thus not being bothered by it. Some have worked out okay and some have led to embarrassment, but if you can't laugh at yourself then you can't laugh at anything, or something like that. All that matters is you try.<br />
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Today (13th) is the day you are guaranteed to see two things on social media, and see them multiple times because people aren't creative anymore. First is this screenshot and/or gif of Ryan Howard from The Office. Not sure if Ryan Howard the former Philadelphia Phillie made this same mistake, but we can all hope not for his sake:<br />
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Then, of course, you will see some mention of Leslie Knope discussing Galentine's Day. Everyone thinks their sooooo unique posting the same stuff.<br />
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To help cope with the Valentine's Day blues, one recommendation is to take a shot for every time you see one of those two gifs show up on various forms of social media. You will get so drunk that you will probably not remember today or Valentine's Day at all, so therefore it never really happened, and you can't have a bad Valentine's Day if it never existed. It's science. While these gifs and memes don't really help matters, I would like to offer a more uplifting piece of advice from a Parks and Rec character: Ron Swason discussing love, despite being divorced 3 times.<br />
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I think this is very uplifting, honestly. Never give up! There is no point in giving up. The right side of my phone has a dent on the right side from all the swiping I've been doing over the years, but I'm not giving up! While my batting average is absolutely abysmal, it only takes one correct swipe to make life wonderful. Still hoping this comes from real life and not Bumble but hey it's 2018. I'm still not used to this whole new positive outlook on life that I'm trying out. Writing this makes me feel weird, like when you leave your phone at home and you're at work or something.<br />
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Last year, I decided that I wasn't gonna mope around the apartment drinking Budweiser and watching a meaningless Bruins game like the year before. I decided to take myself to get some Ramen noodles in Providence, because that's one of my happy places in life. Since this place is popular and small, I showed up early before it opened, signed up on the wait list outside and waited to be called. 10 minutes later when the hostess came out she started calling for the other parties signed up.<br />
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"John, party of two. Abigail, party of two. Big Sid, party of two. Yolanda, party of two," she called, which suddenly made me realize something. I wasn't a party of two. Another few names and she came to my chicken scratch handwriting on the sheet.<br />
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"JIM PARTY OF ONE!" she said. I'm sure she didn't yell it any louder than the other names, but it felt like it. I made my way through the group of people that had swelled up to like, 40, all in pairs, trying to shhhh her to keep it down that I was by myself. Of course, she continued "PARTY OF ONE! JIM! Aw Jim! Aw! I'll be your Valentine!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">made this myself.</td></tr>
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This, of course, was very mortifying. I was very touched that this girl offered to be my Valentine but I think it may have been her way of saving the tip she had probably thought she had lost by embarrassing me. I had never slurped down a bowl of ramen so quickly. I tipped, by the way.<br />
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Why did I share this humiliating story with you? To prove to you that no matter what you do to treat yourself this Valentine's Day, it probably can't get much worse than that. I survived! I mean, sure I had to go to a bar afterwards to decompress from sheer embarrassment, but that was one of the better Valentine's Days I've had. Point is, you can survive this just fine. <br />
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I think if you're single you should try to go on out there, take the bull by the horns and try having some damn fun. It is perfectly fine to please yourself on Valentine's Day. Self love is the key to happiness. This phrasing is starting to turn a bit more risque then I had intended. How can you love someone else if you don't love yourself, you guys? If you want to go to sewing circle, go to sewing circle. Wanna find a friend and throw bottles at stop signs? Go for it! Feel like drinking at a bar to try to pick someone up while playing Vanessa Carlton songs on a jukebox? Hell yeah, that's what I'll probably be doing! Well, the playing Vanessa Carlton songs on the jukebox part, at least.<br />
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I say cheer up gang. Things always get better. Always next year, right? The Chicago Cubs said that about winning the World Series and it only took them 108 years...okay not the best example. Maybe your mom will get you chocolate? Just keep the faith<br />
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Also, I'm single. Tell your friends. Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-38078816923020202142018-01-07T16:37:00.003-05:002018-01-07T16:50:01.493-05:00Smells Like Autotune SpiritThere I was, hanging out on my couch sippin’ on a whisky watching some soap operas trying to warm the hell up. I had just finished shoveling the
giant mound of snow and ice that the city plow had left in front of my driveway,
which was conveniently placed there a mere 20 minutes after already shoveling
said driveway. While I may have been bitter and checking Amazon for voodoo
dolls to exact revenge on the stupid ass plow driver (plow man? I dunno), I soon
became intrigued by a tweet that was retweeted onto my Twittersphere. It was
from @TheBrandonMorse, including a video link and it read ‘Someone auto-tuned “Smells
Like Teen Spirit” to a major chord, and now life is confusing.’ For full on credit, this was posted on Vimeo by Sleep Good under "Nirvirna - Teen Sprite". Gotta give this evil genius credit. I gave it a
listen. You should too.<br />
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Holy hell.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, this is Charles Barkley w/ Nirvana at Saturday Night Live</td></tr>
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The ‘now life is confusing’ line of that tweet is an
understatement. I fully understand that changing up the chords and what not can
make any song different, but suddenly this 90’s anthem of teen angst, which was
the dagger in the heart of hair bands (sorry Brett Michaels, Rock of Love was a
wildly entertaining show though!) had turned into…a happy-go-lucky, cheery,
go-get-em type of song? The first time I listened, I immediately wanted to go
buy a pack of bubblegum and go for a nice stroll. This is music’s bizzaro
world.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nUtDzIYeSNg/WlKTCifnUuI/AAAAAAAABnU/AnaRsxfbFj0I1YnagZA_XDsNfM7mbKyswCLcBGAs/s1600/happy%2Bkurt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nUtDzIYeSNg/WlKTCifnUuI/AAAAAAAABnU/AnaRsxfbFj0I1YnagZA_XDsNfM7mbKyswCLcBGAs/s320/happy%2Bkurt.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">optimism!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been asking people what it sounds like to them, and everyone
seems to be right. It sounds like the beginning of Nicki Minaj’s 'Starships', it sounds
like B*Witched’s b*loved smash hit single ‘C'est la Vie’. There is a bit of Hanson’s
‘MMMBop’ tossed in there. The guitar solo, which inspired many a grunge kid to
buy a guitar to try and nail suddenly sounds like Big Country’s song ‘In A Big
Country’.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
This version of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit; could be the theme
song for a ‘Friends’ ripoff sitcom circa 1998. It could feature in one of those classic Coca-Cola ads where everyone is suddenly happy. This could play during the closing
montage that tells the audience what every character ends up doing in the
future of one of those teen movies with starring a young Jennifer Love Hewitt
and Seann William Scott (total aside, I had no idea he spelled Seann with two n’s,
did anyone else notice this?). I imagine this playing at the house party when
the couple that should be together finally gets together, while the goon in the
film is tending to a nosebleed, and the dorky kid, probably played by Seth
Green, finally becomes cool. I now want to watch “Can’t Hardly Wait” or
anything starring the great Alicia Silverstone. My friend, and past contributor
to this blog, Julie Strano said that listening to that made her feel like she
should be in a convertible wearing a crop top, probably in southern California.
I tend to doubt anyone has said that about the normal version of the song. You
could even substitute this for Wham!’s ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ in
Zoolander when the gang is riding in the Jeep before having a gasoline fight,
which ends in disaster when one of the male models sparks up a cig. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I think that part that is so shocking about this version of
the song is just how catchy and amazing it still is, despite how different it
is. I have listened to this song on repeat quite a few times over the past few
days, and it just doesn’t make any sense. Nirvana has never really been known
for cheer. ‘Come As You Are’ can make a beautiful June afternoon in Punta Cana
turn gray and depressing. ‘Polly’, at first listen, seems to be a nice song
about a parrot, but listen to the lyrics and it is quite darker than that.
Maybe ‘In Bloom’ could count as cheery? Maybe guitar-wise it is, but I just
remembered the opening line of that is ‘sell the kids for food’, so Nevermind
(see what I did there!). My personal favorite Nirvana song is ‘About A Girl’
but I still wouldn’t listen to that when I’m all pumped up and ready to seize
the day. </div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xWeqZCzu_OU/WlKMDoHD2AI/AAAAAAAABms/eTd2KNSjXm8EWXwoZ7UAop7rWdEUtKRIACLcBGAs/s1600/cobain%2Bclapping%2Bgif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xWeqZCzu_OU/WlKMDoHD2AI/AAAAAAAABms/eTd2KNSjXm8EWXwoZ7UAop7rWdEUtKRIACLcBGAs/s1600/cobain%2Bclapping%2Bgif.gif" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
This really makes you think. Would Kurt have been around still
had all his songs sounded like this? Would Foo Fighters still be as big as they
are had ‘Everlong’ or ‘Monkey Wrench’ been autotuned in a major chord? Would Nirvana’s
picture with Charles Barkley been less awkward if this version of the song was
out there in 1991? Would bands like Everclear, Gin Blossoms and, bless them,
Sugar Ray have just thrown in the towel and given up knowing they could never
right a pop-rock song like this? We may never know, but for once, Twitter
actually provided us with something delightful. That may be the real shocker
here.</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></span>Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-10416972091516676582018-01-01T18:03:00.002-05:002018-01-01T18:03:17.794-05:00I Am Looking Forward To 2018<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Much like how the title of this post tells you, I am looking
forward to 2018. Boom. It’s out there. I think it’s safe to say 2017 was like
the drunk college freshman who just won’t leave the party the seniors are
throwing and eventually pukes in one of the said senior’s beds. This once
happened to me. Anyways, 2017 was no bueno, but why look back with a scowl when
we can look forward with….I don’t know, a smirk? To put it in terms of characters
from Parks and Rec (this is becoming more of a useful and widely accepted tool
of comparison, I am learning), I am trying to be more Chris Traeger and less
April Ludgate. Actually, let’s clarify. I would like to be optimistic like
Chris, and I guess it wouldn’t hurt to age so damn gracefully either. I still
think we should all strive to be weird like April. Maybe just less pessimistic?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Yq0ZHxLVew/Wkq61XgqOII/AAAAAAAABls/d_3bT1OHb_EE7KdCMrEdOtfWG2M1CTpxgCLcBGAs/s1600/chris%2Btraeger%2Bgif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="239" data-original-width="498" height="153" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Yq0ZHxLVew/Wkq61XgqOII/AAAAAAAABls/d_3bT1OHb_EE7KdCMrEdOtfWG2M1CTpxgCLcBGAs/s320/chris%2Btraeger%2Bgif.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Optimism!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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I tend to be accused of being pessimistic when I just think
I’m being realistic. For instance, if you were to come meet me at a restaurant
with 33 pancakes as a tribute to former New York Knicks center Patrick Ewing and
asked, with a hint of hope, if I thought that you could eat all those pancakes
in 5 minutes, I would tell you no. Not because I WANT to doubt you, it’s just
that, realistically, I do doubt you and you probably won’t eat all those
pancakes. That’s a lot of pancakes. But anywho, I guess this was a long way of saying
that I will be trying to be more ~cheerful~. Doesn’t hurt to give it a whirl
and maybe tell you that, maybe, you can eat all those pancakes. I mean, it can’t
hurt, right? Things are looking up! I got a new laptop for Christmas, so blogging
has once again become easy and enjoyable, as opposed to having my old piece of
crap Macbook freeze up on me halfway through writing a power ranking of Michael
Scott’s most cringeworthy moments. The writing will be at an all time high this
year, and with more shenanigans than ever before! I know you were all looking
forward to that statement, so good for you, your 2018 is off to a smashing
success. And, you know what, good for me as well! Maybe I’ll even get those
Breakfast at Jimothy’s t-shirts made, too.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This blog had potential, I promise.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyways, here are some things that I would like to discuss,
and hope happens to yours truly in 2018. As I write this we are 16 hours into
the new year and I already had to cancel my credit card because someone spent
$452 at Victoria’s Secret and didn’t even have the class to send me a bathrobe,
while this was a real bummer, I am keeping my head up and thinking, hey I’ll probably
have a day real soon where I won’t get my credit card stolen. Baby steps,
people, baby steps. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my first goals is to travel somewhere, maybe by
myself or by tricking someone whose company I enjoy to join me. I think I am
personally due for a voyage somewhere, and most likely centered around music,
tacos and a *scene* that doesn’t suck. Basically I’m saying that I want to
finally go to Austin so I can eat tacos, check out a ton of bands and drink
spicy margaritas at dive bars. I am also taking suggestions and recommendations
for places to check out, things to do, people to meet and also stay away from (this
includes self-proclaimed Sorcerers and the French. I trust neither). There are
times where I get bored in lil ol’ Providence, Rhode Island, and maybe seeking
some form of adventure would be just downright swell. I was fortunate enough to
see one of my favorite bands, Jawbreaker, play one of their first shows in 21
years in Chicago (probably my high point of 2017), and it hit me that I enjoyed
that and, you know, maybe I should do that again some time. It’s almost like traveling
to a major city to see something that I like while drinking beers with a friend
is a good thing.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jsnscGl-QQ8/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jsnscGl-QQ8?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another goal of mine is to develop the perfect spicy queso
dip. I was discussing the importance of a good queso dip recently and the notion
was arrived that every situation gets at least a little better when chips and
good queso enter into the equation. Hockey games, funerals, barnstorming’s, one
person riots outside of Starbucks, your niece’s dance recital, all of these and
more can be made much, much better with queso. Much like my wardrobe, the spicier
the better, so I’ll be looking to kick some serious ass in the queso making
game in 2018. That sounded a lot better in my head. </div>
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I also believe I will nail down a modeling contract this
year. </div>
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Look at this photograph (I hope you read that in your head in the same
tone as Chad Kroeger from Nickelback sings it). I thought I looked rather nice
so I had my friend Sam take it. Stunning! It doesn’t matter at all that most of
the comments on Instagram are making note of how awkwardly large the straw in
that gin and tonic is, I’m reaching for the moon here. This may or may not have just been an elaborate ruse to get a song stuck in your head.</div>
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I would definitely like to learn more guitar, mostly because
I know next to nothing except the opening to Weezer’s Sweater Song, the opening
to ‘Psycho Killer’ by Talking Heads, and Deep Purple’s ‘Smoke on the Water’ (to
be fair that is my Dad’s favorite band and I think he taught me that when I was
still sleeping in a crib every night). I’m not saying I am going to start
trying to woo ladies around Providence by standing outside their windows playing
something by Something Corporate (it’s freezing outside!) but if I want to
become a true renaissance man and elevate my game at swanky dinner parties, I
figure learning guitar could come in handy. I think if I had a quick top 5
without thinking in depth (aka I’m leaving a lot of songs out that I’ll be kicking
myself for in about 15 minutes) of songs that I’d like to learn, it would have
to be Cute Without the ‘E’ (Cut From the Team) by Taking Back Sunday, Where is
My Mind? by Pixies, Someday by The Strokes, Boxcar by Jawbreaker, and probably some
cover of Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. I know it’s a new year but you really
can’t expect me to not give some love to the crown jewel of Canada’s music
scene. I will undoubtedly learn 0 of these songs in 2018, but I will still be
an admirable addition to any dinner party any of you want to throw. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hZetxXG9s88/Wkq9CTV9s2I/AAAAAAAABmI/jhDJhDVAJhQqsvRIFzdu2JcnR0ZHut-sACLcBGAs/s1600/carly%2Brae%2Bjepsen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="755" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hZetxXG9s88/Wkq9CTV9s2I/AAAAAAAABmI/jhDJhDVAJhQqsvRIFzdu2JcnR0ZHut-sACLcBGAs/s320/carly%2Brae%2Bjepsen.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iconic</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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2018 will also be the year I finally work at listening to
friend’s suggestions for TV shows and movies. I am awful at this. The newest
show I watched was Ozark, which was absolutely bonkers and I loved it. The next
newest show? I guess Parks and Rec, which I loved immediately and keep re-watching
over and over, along with The Office, instead of checking new things out. I
like most of my friends, so I do need to get better and listening to them, but
I’m not giving into Game of Thrones. If I can gripe for a second, I’m sick of
people telling me I’ll like Game of Thrones. I won’t. I say this and mention
the fact that I don’t go for that whole middle earth bullshit, and everyone
gets all offended, and most people will say “but Jim you sly devil, don’t you
like Lord of the Rings?” thinking I’ll suddenly say yes and automatically love
Game of Thrones. What ends up really happening is that I tell them no, I hated
Lord of the Rings and only saw the first two for various birthday parties I had
to attend. This usually results in that person giving up, and me going to the fridge
to get another beer. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll finally watch movies like
Shawshank Redemption, Goodfellas and Forrest Gump in 2018. We’ll see. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S1CBK2cetZc/Wkq9beIMa6I/AAAAAAAABmM/PlHmTQd1iCwQTtNGAoOI_DsGL7vf_ZdMACLcBGAs/s1600/winter%2Bis%2Bcoming%2Bgif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="160" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S1CBK2cetZc/Wkq9beIMa6I/AAAAAAAABmM/PlHmTQd1iCwQTtNGAoOI_DsGL7vf_ZdMACLcBGAs/s320/winter%2Bis%2Bcoming%2Bgif.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No shit. It's January.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Lastly, while it seems like no one got along with anyone in
2017, it appears that, somehow, Liam and Noel Gallagher of Oasis have buried
their hatchet. If these two could finish out 2017 by no longer feuding, then we
can all try to get along, somehow. Honestly, it’s all nice but I always liked
Blur more than Oasis, so the feud just kind of amused me while also serving a
purpose of not having to worry about them releasing a new album. Now, I have to
worry about this, and it hit me that an Oasis reunion will most likely headline
Coachella, Lollapalooza or, (since 8o% of festivals are all the same lineup
these days) both in 2018. I tweeted this prediction out on 12/20/17 at 10:57
and I want to be acknowledged as a Swami if this becomes true. While it’s sad
that this feud is over, we still have some amazing feuds that will carry over
into 2018, most notably, Drake and Josh, Katy Perry and Taylor Swift, Martha
Stewart and Gwyneth Paltrow, and of course, my sister Allison and our family’s
dentist. Still don’t know how that one happened but it is very bitter and I
love that it’s a thing.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rJR3-AnOO8Q/Wkq-CT9GYbI/AAAAAAAABmU/GB9zgcghLS0HjTD1Ir8KyPTkISMNWZMVwCLcBGAs/s1600/oasis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="460" height="192" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rJR3-AnOO8Q/Wkq-CT9GYbI/AAAAAAAABmU/GB9zgcghLS0HjTD1Ir8KyPTkISMNWZMVwCLcBGAs/s320/oasis.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It'll last.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Look at that, first blog post out of the way in 2018. I can honestly
say that I feel a bit, rejuvenated(?) and I honestly do hope that I’ll be
blogging a whole hell of a lot more. It’s always nice to make fun of things and
rant and rave about nonsense, so I hope you all enjoy what is to come. I wish
you all a very happy new year, for Vanessa Carlton to make a resurgence in
2018, and for that queso dip to work out.</div>
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God protects idiots, you guys.</div>
Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-37038017628357322052017-08-22T23:13:00.002-04:002017-08-22T23:13:22.087-04:00Stranger Than (Science) FictionLast Thursday was a big day if you were one of the many rabid/cult-like followers of Brand New. The patience that, understandably, was wearing thin after an 8 year gap between albums came to an end with an album, <i>Science Fiction</i>, that came out of the blue. I think even the most depressed fan with bottled up teen angst remaining from 2007 even had to crack the slightest of smiles when this news broke. I like to picture the tweet heard 'round the music world was like a Bat Signal. All of a sudden, all these 20- and 30-somethings working at a job they hate hear word of this album and they feel the urge to blast Sic Transit Gloria and go tell strangers to die young and save themselves, while getting angry over an ex who hurt them back in 2003.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DyCGQlZghl8/WZzwn0yhKII/AAAAAAAABj0/dy_M3MnidD0qurYdcJTpaFdUHnweWOk6QCLcBGAs/s1600/jesse%2Blacey%2B1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1200" height="218" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DyCGQlZghl8/WZzwn0yhKII/AAAAAAAABj0/dy_M3MnidD0qurYdcJTpaFdUHnweWOk6QCLcBGAs/s400/jesse%2Blacey%2B1.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Over two years ago I wrote a post called <a href="http://breakfastatjimothys.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-curious-case-of-brand-new.html" target="_blank">The Curious Case of Brand New</a>. This was hot on the heels of the band releasing a new single 'Mene' and had performed another song live (never released) called 'Sealed to Me'. It seemed like a new album was imminent and Brand New was ready to reclaim their throne in the world of alternative rock. What happened next was one more single, 'I Am The Nightmare' which was very good, and then a few months later an email to those on the Procrastinate! Music Traitors email list explaining that they would NOT be releasing an album anytime soon. Not only did that suck the already low levels of joy in Brand New fans, but it raised new questions of when the next album would be, and if it would even happen at all.<br />
<br />
Brand New was in a tough spot. Their first 3 albums were universally loved, and 'Daisy' was their first step in the wrong direction. It was simply too weird. The song 'Gasoline' ends with a minute and one second of mind-numbing distortion. Multiple songs had weird old timey recordings from church sermons. It had a couple decent songs, and sure, some people say they like the album, but no one is ranking that as their favorite Brand New album. Anyone who says Daisy is a great album is probably someone trying to be a music snob and probably also thinks that 'Bleach' is the best Nirvana album. In whole, Daisy was a disappointment (massively, to most) and I think a lot of people were very curious and worried of how the next album would come out, whenever that would be. We, the bloodthirsty angsty kids, had to accept that we wouldn't get a second Deja Entendu (which is understandable), but we would have certainly settled for something closer to The Devil and God.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HIfFYkQe8KE/WZzyJeSHgNI/AAAAAAAABkE/qRWeB9mmJgwofMWtu0okMiiM8Hsx4T7JQCLcBGAs/s1600/science%2Bfiction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HIfFYkQe8KE/WZzyJeSHgNI/AAAAAAAABkE/qRWeB9mmJgwofMWtu0okMiiM8Hsx4T7JQCLcBGAs/s400/science%2Bfiction.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always appreciated fine (album) art</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is where Science Fiction absolutely enters into the equation, and ultimately delivers. My dear buddy Steve "Sherry Poo" Sheridan summed it up perfectly when he said that this album is what SHOULD have followed up Devil and God instead of Daisy. The music on Science Fiction has it's own sound, while still having that Brand New feel to it, and minus the Daisy weirdness. This is what fans wanted.<br />
<br />
I admit that right off the bat I was scared as hell as I hit play on opening track 'Lit Me Up'. It opens with about a 90 second intro of what sounds like a patient telling her shrink about some dreams she's been having. I had a sinking feeling that it would be another Daisy, but my thoughts were at ease when the actual song kicked off. Track 2 is 'Can't Get Out' and all of my doubts were set aside and the feeling of excitement of something magnificent started.<br />
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Let's get one thing clear: Science Fiction is not a cheery album. It's sad. Really sad. It's like a gut punch of sadness that opens up a pit in your stomach, but you enjoy it. A lot of it is heavy and slow, but it keeps you paying attention throughout. The album's final track 'Batter Up' is 8 minutes long but you don't get the desire to skip to the next song halfway through. Personally, I love 'Could Never Be Heaven' and I can already see Jesse playing that solo to close out shows on the upcoming tour that was impossible to get tickets to. 'Same Logic/Teeth' has some moments of the angsty yelling that we all love and adore, while having a certain movie-montage-song caliber pace to it. When it comes down to it, there is no song that disappoints. It's a great album throughout, which makes sense considering the time it took to make. You get bits and pieces of intensity mixed with a slow-burn of acoustic guitar at points. It's a mixed bag in the best way possible: you get all forms of Brand New at their best. This is the redemption album that made the wait worth it.<br />
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I personally think that Brand New became important for this generation because their early songs were so relatable. Jesse Lacey is the Morrissey of this generation, which I think was a goal of his. His lyrics are relatable. We could relate to being stabbed in the back by friends. We dealt with heartbreak and wondering what else is out there down the line. Brand New was the curators of the soundtrack to a lot of our lives growing up, while figuring out that crazy thing called life. The majority of music these days is made up of nonsensical bullshit. People don't care about lyrics and just care about beats. Pitbull mentions random names of cities and yells 'fireball' a bunch of times over a cheap, catchy beat and makes money off of it because a lot of people are stupid. Brand New gave people an outlet to relate to, and their music mattered. Maybe it took some brains in their fans and some understanding, but those people who get it fell in love with this band. There aren't a lot of fairweather Brand New fans out there. There is a reason why everything Brand New does/tweets/posts goes viral instantly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ftehWgEGYs8/WZzwvKNayoI/AAAAAAAABj4/39hSFzbZfNk5nn9DXSzaJmz1T_rllKHowCLcBGAs/s1600/hi%2Bmoz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="374" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ftehWgEGYs8/WZzwvKNayoI/AAAAAAAABj4/39hSFzbZfNk5nn9DXSzaJmz1T_rllKHowCLcBGAs/s400/hi%2Bmoz.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the guitar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I admit, this paragraph is a bit random but I have to include it because it's on my mind. What is up with Jesse Lacey's fear of drowning? Between 'Play Crack the Sky' (drowning in a shipwreck near Montauk), the lyrics to 'At The Bottom' and 'Sink', mentioning "sinking like a stone in the sea" in the mostly instrumental 'Tautou', and now a song called 'In the Water', I feel like he's pretty scared of the ocean. Oh, and that whole "and even if her plane crashes tonight she'll find some way to disappoint me, by not burning in the wreckage, or drowning at the the bottom of the sea" thing in 'Jude Law And a Semester Abroad'. I'm starting to think he never learned how to swim or something. Oh man, and don't forget about 'Jaws Theme Swimming'. Maybe that movie scarred him!<br />
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With Daisy, the message became less relatable and we didn't really know what the hell they were talking about. Pair that with the weirdness of it all and people turned away from it. Science Fiction gets things back on track. They have grown up, and so have we. The teen angst is gone but the real life issues are there. Science Fiction has mentions of wives and kids and not knowing what else the future has in store, which is also what this generation (as we get older) is going through as well. All of a sudden, we have another album that can be a soundtrack to another phase of our lives. The wait is over. Jesse Lacey is back on track and we all need to kick back and enjoy this.<br />
<br />Daisy is forgiven. Long live Science Fiction.<br />
<br />Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-38928381041075761432017-07-09T17:30:00.002-04:002017-07-09T17:30:49.551-04:00The Hero We NeedThose who know me well will tell you that I'm not that fond of Snapchat, segways and broccoli. While two out of the three will never, ever change, I may be turning the corner on the idea of Snapchat, and it's thanks to one thing and one thing only:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-br_foFP2YQg/WWKdzkYYSTI/AAAAAAAABjE/OXACN530onw9ESy7cKgZPNLz7jbqDXvOwCLcBGAs/s1600/hot%2Bdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-br_foFP2YQg/WWKdzkYYSTI/AAAAAAAABjE/OXACN530onw9ESy7cKgZPNLz7jbqDXvOwCLcBGAs/s400/hot%2Bdog.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not even mad his feet are on the recliner!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Don't get me wrong, Snapchat isn't terrible. I have a small group of people who I snap and enjoy most of what they send me, but then there are people who get annoying with it. I don't want to see snaps of fireworks or sunsets. A lot of people use it as the modern day "Wish You Were Here!" postcard, showing off where they are to make others jealous. I'm guilty of this from time to time as well, but some people just abuse their Snapchat accounts to no end, and it can become cringeworthy. What was once a stale app that in my opinion just got the splash of tabasco that was absolutely needed. A breakdancing hot dog filter.<br />
<br />
This Hot Dog is the hero this country needs right now. The country is in turmoil with people all upset at each other. Twitter is at an all time level of cesspool-ness. No one can agree about anything with anyone, yet I think we can all get behind the breakdancing Hot Dog. It has instantly joined the elite club of things that everyone likes, such as The Office, Heath Ledger's portrayal of The Joker, Snoop Dogg and those whacky wavy inflatable dancing tube things outside your local used car dealership. I find his face calming yet still filled with mischief. He looks like a good timer. Had he been cast in Step Up or Magic Mike, I would actually consider seeing those movies. Not since Elaine tried busting a move on that episode of Seinfeld has there been a more significant impact to Pop Culture involving dancing.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-weQMfurAy94/WWKf4Fc1VRI/AAAAAAAABjU/PtOay4GmgMEnD1UV4lzEnpFkzHU2PW5oQCLcBGAs/s1600/elaine%2Bdancing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-weQMfurAy94/WWKf4Fc1VRI/AAAAAAAABjU/PtOay4GmgMEnD1UV4lzEnpFkzHU2PW5oQCLcBGAs/s400/elaine%2Bdancing.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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There is a lot of potential here. Years ago, by use of a jingle, we were told that we wished we could be an Oscar Meyer wiener. Today, we want to be a breakdancing Hot Dog. If I were a company trying to clean up their image, I would try to get involved with this new sensation. Subway is in desperate need of a makeover, because their sandwiches suck and their spokesperson turned out to be a scumbag. I think sales would go through the roof if they started using this Hot Dog as the face of their company (and also by making better sandwiches). Perhaps a headphone company could use the Hot Dog to peddle their newest merchandise. Beats by Dre could use this new social media darling to launch a new line. Of course, the Hot Dog would risk being called a sell out, but we would all soon forget that by just being distracted by his moves and calm demeanor.<br />
<br />
I believe that this Hot Dog is what we all thought Katy Perry's Left Shark from Superbowl 49 would become. While I was perfectly fine with the Patriots winning that Super Bowl, most of the nation was distraught, and took solace in the instant fame of Left Shark. People wanted more, yet there was no follow up, and it quickly went away, which is a damn shame.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wasted Potential.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Snapchat has the ability to keep the Hot Dog around and it could keep bringing joy into the lives of people. It's versatility is key. We can have fun inserting this Hot Dog into famous photos. Maybe it was present for Lincoln's assassination? Maybe it accompanied Neil Armstrong for the first moon landing.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2PupPgrDn6o/WWKfJ8vOQsI/AAAAAAAABjM/sqcIeZxZGPwktLFDWFTiGSlh7YkheCySQCLcBGAs/s1600/hot%2Bdog%2Bmoon2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="640" height="387" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2PupPgrDn6o/WWKfJ8vOQsI/AAAAAAAABjM/sqcIeZxZGPwktLFDWFTiGSlh7YkheCySQCLcBGAs/s400/hot%2Bdog%2Bmoon2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It can be inserted into rap music videos drinking champagne with Lil Wayne, or can show up unexpectedly in your bowl of salad. The possibilities are endless, and it's got the ability to provide endless fun, which is someone we all need right now. It's a true escape from reality. So, I say screw your flower crowns and and filters that make you look like an actual dog. This is 2017, the world is in chaos, and the hero that we need is a breakdancing Hot Dog. What a time to be alive.<br />
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<br />Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6588056645718540690.post-43299724019196142462017-06-19T21:26:00.004-04:002017-06-19T21:26:33.520-04:00Ramblings, Man.I was going to start this with a big rant about how I haven't blogged in a while and was very thankful that my last blog on college reunions went over so well. It was going to blame social media for being a cesspool and stuff but I found myself boring....myself so I just erased and I'm starting fresh now. That being said, the last blog was the most viewed I've had in almost 2 years, so thanks, you guys. Good to be back, until I forget and go on another unplanned hiatus.<br />
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End of speech. Let's talk nonsense in the world today.<br />
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Mr. Met flipped someone off and got busted for it. While this is not as controversial as when Benny the Chicago Bull mascot was caught hotboxing his costume mid-game, this was hilarious in it's own way. There is something about big, dumb cartoon-humans flipping off their own fans which brings me joy. I think what really made me crack a half-smile (can't give too much of a grin, that shows weakness and I have a persona to keep up) was the fact that Mr. Met has only 4 fingers and he had to hold down the remaining fingers with his other hand to make a middle one. It's also amusing that Mr. Met has showed more passion and grit in this one instance than any of the Mets 7 ace pitchers have this year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0e3l7hu4Ls/WUhxwL8vR3I/AAAAAAAABhk/V47J0jH_VZ4asWCZy_ucpw4NdYnwyerCgCLcBGAs/s1600/mr%2Bmet%2Bfinger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="595" height="237" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0e3l7hu4Ls/WUhxwL8vR3I/AAAAAAAABhk/V47J0jH_VZ4asWCZy_ucpw4NdYnwyerCgCLcBGAs/s400/mr%2Bmet%2Bfinger.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's so satisfying! That's what she said.</td></tr>
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After years of always hearing good things but never giving it a good shot, I finally watched Parks and Rec. All this time spent rewatching classic episodes of The Office while Parks and Rec was right there being neglected...God dammit Jim. I think at some point I will do a full in-depth power-rankings on the whole cast of the show, but for now I will give you my very brief top 5: 5. Leslie Knope 4. Tom Haverford 3. Ron Swanson 2. Andy Dwyer 1. April Ludgate. I've also come to the conclusion that Andy and April is my favorite fictional couple, replacing my previous favorite of Ray Romano and whoever his wife was on 'Everybody Loves Raymond'. I have to thank my friend Adriann for pushing me to my limits and making me watch this. It was totally worth it. I really don't know what took me so long to watch this show, and I kinda hate myself for not doing it sooner.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Bn8FfrPONA/WUhyvkr8alI/AAAAAAAABhs/0YfFUti0ngQlbcX_L_2KEBk4N3zg8kGSACLcBGAs/s1600/ron%2Bswanson.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="223" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Bn8FfrPONA/WUhyvkr8alI/AAAAAAAABhs/0YfFUti0ngQlbcX_L_2KEBk4N3zg8kGSACLcBGAs/s400/ron%2Bswanson.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A man's man.</td></tr>
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Speaking of hating myself, I've started running again. How's it going you ask? Well, even before my first run in God knows when, I made a Spotify playlist called Dreadful Running Mix, so that's a good indicator. I can't believe that there was a period in my life that I ran cross country for year in high school, just for fun. Then again, I also can't believe that I tied for 'Friendliest' in the 8th grade superlatives, so hey anything can change I guess.<br />
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I saw AFI play Providence two nights ago and I'm starting to seriously wonder if they are taken for granted. They formed in 1991 (!) broke out in 2003, somehow survived as a goth-emo band who went mainstream, got even bigger with Miss Murder, and have still been making albums that are good. To sum up the show, they play the hits and get the crowd all sorts of amped up. Also, they had some impressive mosh pits, so if you wanted to go get our your inner teen angst via shoving and throwing elbows, that's a place to check out. Seriously though, they were really good. I'm talking like, soundtrack to the movie Drive good. It was also fun to learn that lead singer Davey Havok was voted the World's Sexiest Vegetarian in 2007 and was on the cover of Vegan Health and Fitness in 2015. What confuses me here is how there is a whole magazine out there I've never heard of, despite every Vegan out there never shutting up about how they are in fact, Vegan. How selfish. You can brag about your veganism but can't promote publications that support your health and fitness.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DZgUfdINuoY/WUh0_zG3ZKI/AAAAAAAABh4/K2n1Pue5ddohr35zyrBfAtXxhgauwnhgACLcBGAs/s1600/davey%2Bhavok.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="784" data-original-width="604" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DZgUfdINuoY/WUh0_zG3ZKI/AAAAAAAABh4/K2n1Pue5ddohr35zyrBfAtXxhgauwnhgACLcBGAs/s400/davey%2Bhavok.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fav?</td></tr>
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Without getting too deep into politics, how the hell is Rage Against the Machine not back together right now? Doesn't this seem like the perfect time for them to come back and write the next great anti-politics album? I mean, they got huge in the 90's when Slick Willy Clinton was in office, and the only thing people had to worry about back then was shenanigans in the Oral Office. Simpler times, I guess. I just feel like there is a missed opportunity here for a band like that. My great-great-great grandfather's tomb reads "strike while the iron is hot" and Rage is simply ignoring the tomb of my great-great-great grandfather. Sad!<br />
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Amanda Bynes is back! It's hard to think of a more fascinating Twitter feed that when she was doing her best Britney Spears circa 2007 meltdown impression. Her desires for that Drake fella were pretty intense, as were most of her feelings on things. While it's wonderful that she has cleaned herself up and is making a come back, I have to imagine that the world missed out on her giving her two-cents, or her three-dollar-bill on hot button topics over the past 4 years. Would've loved to get her conspiracy theories on that missing Malaysian Airplane, if she thought that dress was Blue or Gold, and if she thought Left Shark was the real star of Katy Perry's SuperBowl halftime show. Also, wouldn't mind a return of the Amanda Show. That's one reboot that I would support. Can't be any worse than Fuller House.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Lrv0gCb6a4/WUh1ycwRHgI/AAAAAAAABiA/glWcSdDIOXAw3q0UzrX2sHdL3HCYG8p7wCLcBGAs/s1600/amanda%2Bbynes%2Bgif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="234" data-original-width="500" height="186" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Lrv0gCb6a4/WUh1ycwRHgI/AAAAAAAABiA/glWcSdDIOXAw3q0UzrX2sHdL3HCYG8p7wCLcBGAs/s400/amanda%2Bbynes%2Bgif.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In hindsight, this caption was a little too true.</td></tr>
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Instagram has been filled with "the floor is..." memes which is starting to drive me crazy. I am impressed in a way though. It's the first meme to go viral in which there has never actually been a funny one. Ever.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DEReQMj4wtk/WUh4j1qY6UI/AAAAAAAABiY/EuVZ7EfED5YzMBqLnFAiOdzhMJfdrSpewCLcBGAs/s1600/floor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DEReQMj4wtk/WUh4j1qY6UI/AAAAAAAABiY/EuVZ7EfED5YzMBqLnFAiOdzhMJfdrSpewCLcBGAs/s400/floor.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chose one quick after that google image search. Woof.</td></tr>
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I know times are wild right now and no one can agree on anything, but I think if there is one thing this country can all be on the same page about: no more Spider-Man reboots for at least 15 years. I mean, does Hollywood really think people want more? Just to keep you in the know, we had the Tobey Maguire and all his boring charm in Spider-Man, Spider-Man 2 and Spider-Man 3 from 2002-2007. Next, of course, was Andrew "I Love Lasagna and Hate My Dog Odie" Garfield who tried his darndest to make himself seem exciting in The Amazing Spider-Man and The Amazing Spider-Man 2. The only thing that makes him 'amazing' is that he may have had even less of a personality than Tobey Maguire. Now we have some thing called Tom Holland who is the new Spidey in Captain America: Civil War, Spider-Man: Homecoming, and I guess they already have Spider-Man: Homecoming 2 planned. If anyone has a proper system on how to rank these, let me know. We get one movie of Heath Ledger's Joker yet we have 73 Spider-Man reboots. Another sign that life ain't fair.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me avoiding the barrel of spiderman reboots.</td></tr>
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Lastly, and most importantly, stop this nonsense with male rompers. In fact, stop it with all rompers. I've been anti-rompers for years now. I feel like if you are too old for a sippy-cup, you are too old for rompers. Male rompers are just a way for you to look like an asshole and get people to notice you. Rompers are for guys who love making people roll their eyes into the back of their head in agony. It's dumb. Leave rompers for kindergartners. This is 2017, people. The world is a messed up place already. Don't make it worse with male rompers. Stop with the man buns too. They're only for european basketball players.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1SNZEEeA1_w/WUh24pFsKnI/AAAAAAAABiM/Z7aavjstmO8pZgfCSt12MYprA-UBJ7CiwCLcBGAs/s1600/male%2Bromper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="736" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1SNZEEeA1_w/WUh24pFsKnI/AAAAAAAABiM/Z7aavjstmO8pZgfCSt12MYprA-UBJ7CiwCLcBGAs/s400/male%2Bromper.jpg" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not even Leo DiCaprio can make this look good.</td></tr>
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<br />Breakfast at Jimothy'shttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11367232712088055842noreply@blogger.com0